


[Commission] Choices That Count

by OneofWebs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Camping, Childhood Friends, F/M, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Male-Female Friendship, Permanent Injury, Physical Therapy, Recovery, Serious Injuries, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 05:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Allura has all of it laid out for her, on a silver platter. She's going to college, she's going to dance, she's going to rule the world. It all comes crashing down, over a waterfall, and Allura finds herself facing life in a way she never thought possible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Like the title leads you to believe, this work is a commission, and the outline for the story was provided to me. It was a really moving idea, so I had a lot of fun writing this. They wanted it as one big story, but for my sanity, I broke it into chapters. But, that's the reason why all three chapters are here at once. I hope you guys like the story as much as I did!

This, the applause and the whistling from the back row. This was what Allura loved. It wasn't the attention, it wasn't that every eye in the auditorium was trained on her as she made her final bows and watched the curtain's fly together. All of those things were nice, and they were a perk, but if that had been all there was to these recitals, to her dancing, she wouldn't feel nearly as good when it finished. No, it was more the pride that swelled up in her chest that she had done that. She had gone out there and done what, so long ago, she had never thought she could do. She was doing it, and people _enjoyed_ it. Enjoyed her, her moves and the way she smiled on stage. That was what she loved, what she lived for, and when the curtains closed and the lights went off, she couldn't contain herself another minute. She let out a yelp of excitement, twirled around one final time before stepping off the stage.

Backstage was a disaster, as it usually was when students were left in charge of clean up, and she tip toed around all of the carefully balanced props, boxes, and costumes. There was at least one nice thing about the Garrison High theater auditorium, and that was the one, singular fake dressing room. It was more like a locker room, but there was a large mirror attached to, what appeared to be, a dresser from a discount furniture store where they stored makeup and hair tools. Aside from the metal bleachers screwed into the floor, there was one cushioned chair, which was sorely occupied at the moment.

"Lance," Allura frowned, though her lips were twitching with the need to smile. She felt too good to be upset.

Lance, who had been preoccupied with his phone but subsequently and unfortunately tall enough to lean over the back of the chair to look at Allura, gave her a lopsided grin, "Saw it on Instagram. Someone had it live."

She rolled her eyes but bounded into the room, shutting the door behind her, "I _thought_ we agreed you'd watch me like a normal person this time? Like, from the seat I bought you?"

"Nah. Pidge wanted to see you so I gave her the ticket."

At the mention of Pidge, Allura's eyes brightened, "You mean she made it?"

Lance nodded, then used his feet to push off the dresser and spin the chair around, "Apparently, her game friends bailed on her. So."

"Second best," Allura was still beaming though, as she made her way into the room. "I'll take it. Nice of you to give up your seat too," and she swiveled him around before she stepped just out of sight, to change. Lance, being the gentleman he was, looked back down at his phone to scroll through his feed.

"Where we headed tonight? The clubs? The movies? Home for a bit of…." He stopped to hum, "Netflix and chill?"

Allura could _hear_ the smile in his voice, and it made her laugh, "It's the middle of the afternoon, you're not old enough for the clubs, and I've got to get to the Hospital, remember?" she poked her head over the chair to look at his phone. He was looking through Instagram, still. At a very artistic photograph of a helmet, which, had Allura raising an eyebrow, but she didn't question Lance's free spirit.

He tilted his head back to look at her. She was all done back up in a short pink skirt and an over-sized hoodie, which was a terrifying contrast from the sparkling makeup and blue leotard. The makeup was still there, dusting around her cheeks and eyelids. Everything else was just. Normal Allura. Dancing Allura stayed behind on the stage with the thrown roses and echoes of applause.

"Hospital…?"

Allura slapped—tapped—him on the forehead before making her way towards the door, grabbing her duffel bag on the way, "I've got volunteer work today. You promised to drive me, remember?" she waved her phone over her head, like it was supposed to remind Lance of some promise he had hence forgotten about.

It didn't, but he hopped out of the chair anyway and padded on after Allura. That's what friends did. They drove their other, car-less friends places when they had to go there. Not that Allura didn't have a car, because Lance was positive if she wanted one, her father would buy her one. It was just that she hadn't taken the test yet. She didn't have a license. Her schedule was so built up on top of dancing and school that there just wasn't enough time. Lance had always been more than happy to drive her places, anyway, so it wasn't huge on the priority list.

"One round trip to the hospital then. What time do you need picked up, again? I gotta get Veronica from her friend's place at some point."

"Hmmm," Allura thought it over, held the door open for Lance, and proceeded down the hallway, "Three? Maybe I should text you?" she looked over her shoulder.

Lance was still looking at his phone, furiously typing one handed as he used the other to push something out of his way. Always the master of not looking where he was going, he'd picked up a few tricks for times like this. Walking through the crowded backstage hallway, out the side door so neither of them had to meet with the people who were still waiting around for a reception-type ordeal.

"Threeeeeee," Lance raised an eyebrow, waited at the next door for Allura to open it, and typed another response, "should be fine. Said she doesn't even want to _see me_ until after dinner. Apparently Gigi's making burgers for dinner," and he waved his phone in the air, mimicking Allura's earlier gesture. Like, she could see the text message he was talking about.

"Gigi?" Allura responded.

"Friend's mom. Who knew they were on a first name basis."

Allura laughed at that, the way that Lance pursed his lips as they walked.

Once they were outside, Lance had mind enough to stick his phone in his back pocket. If only because Lance McClain was a safe driver, self proclaimed, and would've overlooked a murder if it meant he wouldn't text and drive. As such, he was hitting the clicker button and unlocking the doors just in time for Allura to yank on the passenger side handle. Just like practiced clockwork and teamwork. She slid in first, and Lance followed. The second of delay was necessary so they didn't bump heads on the way in. Lance was many things, rich was not one of them, so the car was small. She did her job, though, and that's all that mattered.

"Thanks again, Lance," Allura smiled at him.

"Mhm. Pidge's gonna be mad though. Came all this way, and you're running off to the hospital again."

"Right," and she sounded so concerned. "We should do lunch this weekend! All of us."

"Only if you're paying, Princess," and they were driving, backing out of the space and surging forward with a too heavy press on the gas.

"Even better if Coran is paying," Allura abridged. She was already pulling out her phone before Lance could even process her comment, and he wasn't about to complain when he had. His phone buzzed a moment later—she had sent the invitation out to their group chat. Then, more buzzing.

"Pidge is absolutely furious," Allura informed, "but says she'll be there. Hunk wants a raincheck."

"What's got him too busy for us?" Lance faked a pout.

"None of our business if he doesn't say," but the wink Allura gave him told him it may or may not have had something to do with the alleged girlfriend none of them had met. Only theorized about. Which, unless Hunk was going to say something, truly wasn't their business.

"And Keith?"

"Ignoring me, like usual," she let out a huff and slumped back into the chair.

"He's probably still mad you missed his birthday party. I'll text him later."

And, they fell into a comfortable silence once Lance turned up the radio. Into comfortable routine when it became more talking than music with Allura in charge of the long list of favorite radio stations. Lance's car was old, unfortunately, and while it had a CD player, neither of them had many CDs to begin with, and it didn't have BlueTooth or a USB port. As it became, DJ-ing was one of Allura's many talents, and Lance had an affinity for dancing in the driver's seat. One too many Ed Sheeran songs later, and they had somehow arrived safely at their destination. Lance was pulling up to the door, around the cul-de-sac, and hitting the button to unlock the door.

"Good luck," he saluted.

"Drive safely, tell Veronica I said 'hello'," Allura waved as she stepped out, slung her duffel bag over her shoulder, and slammed the car door behind her. Lance waited long enough for her to make the short distance to the front of the hospital, and then drove off with a well placed, cheery honk. The first time he'd done it, he'd scared Allura half to death, as well as half the people there. Now, it was just another thing Lance did, and nobody blinked twice.

As it was, Allura walked on through the front door and checked in. She borrowed a bathroom stall to change into the lax sort of uniform they had to wear, and pinned on her volunteer name tag. The uniform was drab, a little ugly. A long pair of khaki pants with a white polo shirt, which had the hospital logo emblazoned on the chest and must always be tucked in. Allura took up her white hair and bundled it into a ponytail, then stepped out to be on her way. She'd been volunteering long enough to have a routine. She knew which supply closets to go to, what supplies needed to go where, for the most part, and the nurses all loved her. This surely wasn't her dream, but it was almost all she ever did in her free time. That feeling of pride that swelled up, knowing that she was doing just enough of what she could do, almost matched the feeling of the stage. Helping people, that's what she lived for.

She met with one of the senior staff, who had been in charge of her volunteering since she began at the start of high school. The lady was old, and a little strict, but she meant well and knew what she was doing. They never stopped to talk long, as it was always business, and only so. Allura met with her to get her assignment for the day, and only afterward if she had questions, concerns, or something a bit more pressing reared it's ugly head. Allura was not a nurse, after all, just a volunteer. She still took her job quite seriously, and worked diligently. It was just like any other day, whether or not that was unfortunate was never quite apparent, still, only that just like any other day wasn't quite how she wanted to put it, stopping at a large open window.

She had a cart to deliver to one of the rooms. It wasn't a particularly interesting delivery, just basic supplies for whatever it was going on. Allura didn't really know, and it might have taken too long to explain if she asked. So, she hadn't, just did her duty with a smile like always, until she'd reached that window. Not all of the hospital rooms had windows, but some of them did. This one, did, and inside was someone Allura had not seen at the hospital before. She normally only worked with longterm patients. She sorted and delivered food for them, and this other side of the job of just delivering medical supplies. Outpatients and emergency patients were not people she saw often, but this wasn't that wing of the hospital. Still, there was a man she'd never seen before.

"Allura," a voice caught her off guard, and she whirled around.

"Who's that?" she asked the nurse, who was no doubt coming to tell her to hurry along. No use standing and staring, as she had always said. But, at the question, the nurse stiffened up and looked off through the window.

"A newer patient," like that answered the question. "He's been a bit of a handful ever since he arrived."

Allura looked back in on him, and there was a deep set feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. He was covered in bandages. Parts of his face done up under gauze, and his entire chest from what she could see through the hospital gown. What else there was, she didn't know, save he was very clearly missing an arm.

"When did he arrive? I've never…" she trailed off, watching with particular interest as the man seemed to snap at the nurse who was with him.

"A week or so ago. He's been through surgery just recently. I'm not sure of the story, just that the nurses like to gossip about him in the cafeteria. He's not very pleasant."

"What's his name?"

The nurse scoffed through her nose, and nodded to the nameplate on the door. They were plastic, and the name itself was usually printed out on paper and slid in, for ease of access when new patients occupied old rooms. But, there was his name. Takeshi Shirogane.

"Would it be alright if I…?" Allura nodded in the direction of the door. Her question seemed a bit misplaced, and the nurse eyed her strangely for a moment before glancing back through the window.

"Finish your work for the day, and sure. He doesn't have any relatives that I know about. No one's been to visit him. Nobody came in the ambulance either," and she was walking away, voice trailing off as she did. Something about it seemed strange, and a little off, but Allura tried to ignore it as she looked back through the window.

Takeshi Shirogane. Missing one arm and an apparent anger problem, which, Allura couldn't find it in her heart to fault him for. If she had lost an arm, she imagined she'd be rather irritable as well. So, she let it pass, and moved on down the hallway to finish her assignment. This delivery was all she had left to do, and there was always something to be said for starting on what she knew would be work for the next day, but something about that man. She decided it could wait until tomorrow, because she had permission to visit with Takeshi Shirogane when no one else had tried to see him. Maybe it was because he was so angry, or maybe it was for another reason. Allura almost grimaced when she walked back to the door, trying to imagine what kind of emptiness would swell up inside her if Lance or Pidge hadn't come to visit her should she have landed in the hospital.

That was reason enough for Shirogane's bad attitude, she decided.

She knocked on the door, which was really only a formality. While not a registered nurse or certified doctor, she was still an employee of the hospital, which meant, in no uncertain terms, that she could just walk into the rooms. It had really only taken a day or so for her to realize she didn't care for that, and there she was, knocking before going for the handle.

"I already said I don't want an—" he stopped shouting immediately when Allura entered the room. He stared at her, with as wide as his eyes seemed able to go. Up close, he looked more tired than angry. There were bags under his eyes, and his eyes were red.

"Hi," Allura was smiling.

Shirogane's odd dumbfounded look dropped immediately to a scowl, the likes Allura had never seen. Somehow, the bags around his eyes made them darker, more menacing. Like he really was angry beyond whatever reasoning Allura had cooked up in her head.

"Get out."

"I heard you hadn't had any visitors," she continued on anyway. Maybe past where she should have, because the minute he made his dislike known, that was the end. It was only polite, but something pressed her forward.

"Great, glad _that's_ spreading around," he rolled his eyes. "Get out."

"My name is Allura," she introduced, "I volunteer here in my free time," by then, she had moved up to the edge of his bed and was plucking at the file left there for anyone to take a look at. It never really dawned on her to ask if she was allowed to look, but at this point, it really didn't matter. She was already glancing, and Shirogane wasn't telling her to stop. He was just watching her.

"Great, a do-gooder," he rolled his eyes and shuffled back down into the pillows. "I don't need your sympathy visit, so get out."

Takeshi Shirogane. Age 22. Severe burns covering the right side of his body. Amputated right arm.

Allura felt her blood run a little cold, felt the color drain away from her face. Because that sounded, well, horrible. Terrifying, even. This wasn't a burn center, either, and everything in her head was asking why was he _here_. Covered in bandages, missing an arm, and scowling at her like she'd just uncovered his deepest, darkest secret.

"What happened?" it slipped out before she realized. Her gasp of shock was audible and high, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. It functioned something like a prison—you could know why they were there, but the circumstances were a little more private. A little more personal. She shouldn't have asked, but where she was expecting to be yelled at once more, she looked and only saw a guarded look on Shirogane's face.

"None of your business."

He might have been expecting anything. For Allura to press further, to question him again with a slightly altered phrasing, hoping he was dumb enough to fall for it. Other nurses had. When his one doctor had turned into a small team, those who hadn't been there from the beginning had asked, done just the same as he was expecting. What none of them did was nod quietly, like Allura did. She nodded in almost slow motion, and let her hand drop back down to her side.

"I apologize," she said. So formal, Shirogane wasn't sure how to take it. He stared at her for a moment, frowning. Allura took it as confusion, and promptly began again: "It slipped out before I could stop myself. I realize not everyone wants to talk about these types of thi—"

"I get it. Just," he rubbed the side of his head, "stop talking."

Allura complied and let her head drop just a little. She placed the file back in its place, and stood frozen in her spot. Things were not going exactly how she thought they would go, which was perhaps her own fault. She hadn't really stopped to think beyond her own opinions and her own feelings; in her defense, it was all she really knew. She also knew better than to stop there, because this is what started her minor battle with Keith, as well.

"Can you please just leave," he tried again. Softer, this time, like one more snap, and he'd watch Allura shatter into pieces right in front of him. Which, contrary to his actions, wasn't his intention.

Allura nodded weakly and, without a word, turned towards the door.

"My name's Shiro," he said after her, which stopped her hand in an uncomfortable hover just above the door handle. She looked back over her shoulder with the faintest smile, though Shiro had gone back to frowning and looking down at the blankets. Maybe she hadn't been so wrong after all, but heartbreak was certain to manifest differently in different people.

-

When she returned to the hospital two days later, she had a real assignment this time to deliver a cart of supplies to Shiro's room. She hadn't actually seen him since the initial encounter, though, somewhere in the back of her mind she had been meaning to pop back in. There just hadn't been _time_ exactly, even though there was plenty. It wasn't too much to say he'd left a bad impression on her, though he had seemingly had some change of heart when he introduced himself. That, and of course, studies and her dancing. No matter how much she loved the Hospital and the nurses and the patients and the way it made her heart utterly swell when she could make them smile, dancing made her smile; it always came first. At the worst of times, it only tired her out, made her a little sluggish around her chores. Today was no real exception, and she pushed into the room without knocking first.

Shiro feigned something calm, but his shoulders jerked at the sound of the door opening. He looked as though he was about to shout, and the first sound of breath on his lips said he would have, if not for Allura being the one to follow the cart inside. When he saw her, he clamped his jaw shut and looked back to his book. His—electronic—book, one he could hold and maneuver easily with one hand. One arm. And he tried not to look so angry about it. Still, Allura had seen his shoulders flinch when the door had burst open, and it had brightened her mood just enough, to see that a man who had been so eager to shout and scream just two days prior could be scared. She tried not to look so happy about it. It felt a little rude, to be happy about it.

"You must have a busy schedule today," she mentioned, idly, because that was all there ever was to discuss within the confines of a hospital room. But.

Allura glanced over her shoulder to find Shiro diligently staring at his device. Just, staring, no real sign of eye movement that might hint he was reading. He was just staring at it, like he was trying to avoid looking at her. His looked stiff, hunched over. Uncomfortable, might have been the word, if Allura hadn't frowned immediately and believed him entirely indignant.

"If you're going to ignore me, you _might_ want to be a bit more subtle about it," she put her hands on her hips.

He near immediately placed the electronic book in his lap, and if it had been a table, it would've slammed instead of making some cartoonish _whop._ Shiro glared at her, "Maybe I don't want to talk about it? Maybe I don't feel the need to tell some little volunteer the details of my life? Why's this have to be about you?"

Which. It wasn't, and her arms went limp at her sides. There was offense written over her features, but it was at herself, for that comment. How very out of place it was, how very not like her, in almost every sense of the way. She frowned, crinkled her nose.

"I apologize. Many of the patients are just so _open_ with me, I forget not everyone is a social butterfly," it hadn't been the apology she meant, or even the one that Shiro deserved. But, it was spilling out before she could stop it. Shiro didn't seem fazed by it, only stared at her with some dim lit hope in his eyes.

"I get it. You like to talk. Maybe don't talk to me," and he was reaching for his book again. But, Allura couldn't help herself. If it had been anyone else, _maybe_ she could've held her tongue. Shiro was just making it so easy, like he wanted to talk, but he wasn't ready to admit he wanted to talk. Or, maybe he wanted to talk to anyone but Allura, but she was there. There, and all he had to do was press a few buttons—whatever it was, she felt it. She needed to know it.

"But why _not_ you? I bet you've got stories to tell," smiling, straight from her eyes to the very flutter of her voice.

Her sudden change in demeanor left Shiro a bit dumbfounded, and he looked over her in his awe. Searching and failing to find the words, so he gaped at her before frowning again, almost out of obligation, out of a desire to make sure she wasn't going to win. Or, otherwise, get a rise out of him.

"Like, there," and he was only now picking up on her accent, and watched as she pointed across her own nose, "you've a scar there. It's not bandaged, so it must be from something else."

"Perceptive," he rolled his eyes. Sarcastic.

"Come on, what is it? Where's it from?"

Without missing a beat: "Fell out of a tree when I was kid."

"The real story."

"Bullies at school."

"You? Bullied? I'd sooner believe you were the one stealing lunch money," she folded her arms, smirked.

Shiro scoffed at that, because he'd rather believe that too, "Car accident."

"That was one well aimed piece of glass, or only your nose went through the wind shield," hips shifted.

"Smart. Alright, I'll level with you," and he shifted in the bed just enough, looked calm as he were. But, Allura could almost see it just from the glare in his eye, if he had had two arms, he would've mimicked her stance best he could from a bed. Still, his comment made her eyes light up that she might have actually _gotten_ somewhere.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Her face dropped, arms, immediately. She stared with disbelief, but Shiro was already settling back down into the pillow. Laying down, almost, if not for the way the bed was propped up for him. He looked so serious, though, when their eyes met again. Like, even in the way of sharing nothing, he was sharing everything. He hadn't yelled at her. He hadn't even been rude—they'd almost played a game with it. In the end, he'd come clean. It was something, maybe a third of the way there, like trust. So. Allura smiled.

"Of course. I hope I wasn't too rude."

Shiro managed a bit of a smile, "Just rude enough, I think."

She almost had it in her to be offended.

"And," he started again, "I was a little out of line last time. Sorry."

"Not at all! I wasn't too polite either. We'll just," she shrugged, absolutely failing to hide the obnoxious smile on her face, "start over."

"Takeshi Shirogane," he held at his hand, "my friends call me Shiro."

"Allura," she replied, and shook his hand.

She had to leave after that, if not for his quite request so he could sleep, then for the fact that she had actual work to attend to before her shift was over. And, afterward, the homework and dance practice. Then, more homework, and at promptly 8:15 Lance would text her like he always did, when he finished up his shift, to catch her up on the horrors of fast food working. It was all like clockwork, except the part where he had to drive home, because traffic was never as reliable as routine. Still, when he got home, he would text her that he made it, and continue whatever story he'd been telling. Allura barely read them anymore, but she appreciated the time he took. It was a welcome break from the busy schedule she'd built for herself, and this time his texts were more engaging. He was confirming their little meet and greet for Saturday. Keith had inevitably agreed, after what was most likely a long and horrendous fifteen seconds of Lance's begging.

It was endearing, really, his puppy dog eyes.

And, promptly at 11:26, when Lance rolled up into her driveway to pick her up the following day, she was looking straight at them again. Because, Keith was in the car, in the passenger seat. Lance was leaning over the console, staring out the open window with big open eyes and a hand held up like he was praying, but his other hand was holding tight to the wheel so he didn't crush Keith. Who, had his arms crossed and glancing over at Allura with unchecked sympathy for whatever it was they had both gotten themselves into.

"Lance," she said.

"You gotta sit in the back," he replied immediately, and now the eyes made sense.

Allura raised an eyebrow, "But I always sit in the front."

"I don't have to pick up Keith all the time. You can sit in the front on the wa—"

"No, she can't. I'm sitting in the front," Keith interjected, and he looked clearly offended that Lance would suggest anything else. "You picked me up first. I called shotgun."

"I don't believe you can call shotgun if I'm not there to defend myself," Allura interjected. She was smiling, though, and sweetly slid on down to open the back door. Lance, unfortunately, didn't keep the back of his car as clean as he did the front, and she had to move a few hoodies and one lone shoe before she could sit down. And, she certainly didn't kick the back of Keith's seat before settling back and buckling up. When Keith looked back at her, she only smiled and waved. He smiled back, because this was normal.

"No hard feelings, right?" he asked, wincing.

"None. That's why I'm paying today," she dug out a little card from her bag and held it up. Keith snickered, and Lance looked at the card in the rear-view mirror. A legendary card, one that had the picture of a puppy printed over it and Coran's name.

"He just give that to you?" Lance asked, disbelief evident.

"Yeah," Allura smiled, "said we should have fun. And, we should. We shall."

Lance laughed, and they were off. The radio was blasting, and Lance had all the windows rolled down. For as cool as it seemed, Lance was blabbering over every song, and the ones he didn't, he sang. Badly, and Allura was off key at the best of times. Keith had sunk down near to the floor by the time they arrived at the restaurant, trying to hide his face from the window. As much as he might have joined in singing if they were back up in Lance's room, because he had a voice on him somewhere under the crop-cut jackets, he was too embarrassed to do it in the car, with the windows down. Pulling up and parking and seeing Pidge sitting over on a bench was the highlight of his day at that point. He bolted out of the car.

"You're finally here," Pidge was a mix between exciting and exasperated.

"We said around noon, how long you been here?" Lance.

"Matt had to drop me off early, because _somebody_ didn't have enough time to pick me up," she stuck her tongue out.

"I had to get Keith!" which was a terrible defense, one that Pidge didn't even deign to respond to. Instead, she turned her attention to Allura, who was shaking a plastic wrap off of her shoe before she could fully free herself from the car.

"You!" Pidge jumped off the sidewalk, "I make it all the way to your dance show thing, and you don't talk to me for three days?!"

"I'm sorry! I've been busy," they were grabbing each other's forearms in a fake, disjointed hug and smiling at each other though. Just like that, no harm done. Allura was laughing, and Pidge had to take back her arm to fix her glasses.

"It's good—good, you just have to tell us what's keeping you. Lance said you got off your shift _late_ yesterday!"

Allura's face flushed, she felt it, and everyone must've seen it. Because, suddenly Lance had that look in his eye, and even Keith had shifted his weight to one foot, gave her that knowing smile that _something_ was up.

"Is this like Hunk's secret girlfriend that we know nothing about?" Keith asked.

"No! Not at all," Allura was pushing past them, "I'll tell you about it when we sit down. We _have_ to get lunch, come on," and she was pulling open the door. They were splurging, and it wasn't McDonald's they were eating at. A real, sit down restaurant. So, while she was hungry, the atmosphere meant they couldn't corner her and tease her. They had to be reasonable, civilized human beings for one day, and it was perfect. Nothing was going on that she needed the clever social trap, really. There was something to be said for the convenience of it all, though.

Nobody could argue. Food was the topic, and for four hungry teenagers. They went right in, table for four, and the onslaught at least waited until they'd ordered food. Then, Pidge slid away her silverware as dramatically as she could manage before leaning across the table, sitting up on her knees in the booth, and pushing up her glasses again.

"Spill."

"Only if you sit back," Allura spoke in a hushed, urgent whisper. Pidge didn't move, only plopped her face into her hands, up on her elbows, and stared.

"Okay, okay," Allura waved her hand in front of her face, and Pidge sat back as she began, "It's just, there's a patient at the hospital is all. We've been talking during the day, so I got distracted."

"You? Distracted?" Lance was seconds away from a heart attack, apparently, or at least a fake one. He and Pidge looked at each other with the same look of over-dramatic fake shock.

Allura looked to her own side, to Keith, for help, where she only found him staring at her and leaning lazily against his hand. Elbows, again, on the table. Eyes just as round as Lance's and Pidge's.

"I've never known you to be distracted," Keith at least was reasonable, laid back, with his drama.

"You'll be glad to know it happens time to time."

Pidge giggled, and it sounded a little evil. But, the three of them sat back and listened quietly while Allura told them about Shiro, or, all she knew about him from their limited contact. Which, in hindsight, wasn't much. She knew his name and a brief list of medical issues, which anyone who looked at him could've figured out. That, and he had a bad attitude at the worst of times, and at the best, he was polite. Funny, even, and she told them about her sad attempt to learn about the scar over his nose.

"You should just go visit him," Pidge offered, when the story was over.

"Pardon me?"

"Like, as a friend, I guess?" she looked at Lance to validate the term, and he nodded with pursed up lips. "Yeah. You said he didn't have anyone else who visited him, and I'm sure the hospital wouldn't mind."

Allura hadn't really ever thought about that before. Not that it wouldn't be allowed, because she was sure nobody would question her, just that it was something she could do. The word "friend" left a heavy feeling in the back of her throat, like it wasn't quite right, and maybe wouldn't ever be quite right. They'd talked twice. She and Lance went to daycare together. She wasn't friends with Shiro, but.

There was no arguing with them, and Allura found herself standing at Shiro's room door the following day, in regular clothing. Her hair was all done up in a loose bun, because everyone could agree she pulled off the messy look flawlessly, and she was wearing an oversized, off the shoulder shirt with a dark pair of leggings. She hadn't planned it, it all just fell together. That's what all this was, just coincidence, and she wasn't nervous when she knocked on the door. So, she told herself, when she heard Shiro's voice from within the door. She poked her head inside just to glance before making her way fully into the room, and by that time, Shiro was already looking at her strangely.

He looked, and sounded, tired. A little ragged. His bandages were fresh, and he was lying near flat, the TV playing quietly on the far side of the room. She hadn't been told of any recent surgeries or tests or whatever it was Shiro was going through, and she wouldn't ask. It wasn't her business, and it wasn't like it was information they could offer freely to her, either. It was Shiro's business, and if he chose to share it, then so be it. Otherwise. Allura just smiled.

"I didn't think you worked Sundays," his scoff was pained.

"Um, no. Not at all, I don't," she smiled. "Oh—unless they ask! Which, they didn't," followed by a nervous laugh. She curled a stray hair behind her ear, and suddenly found it very hard to look at Shiro. There were crumbs on the floor and a fallen book—so nobody had cleaned yet.

"So, you're here…?"

"Oh, well, my friends. They. I told them about you—I hope that's okay. They said I should come see you. Just," she gestured her arms out, shrugging, "normally."

"I see," it was dismissive. He wasn't quite sure what to think, and from the way Allura fidgeted where she stood, it was clear she didn't really either. Maybe wasn't even sure what had brought her here, because peer pressure would've been a lie. Nobody had forced her to come. She'd asked Lance to bring her, and he said he'd roll back around in thirty minutes to see how she was doing. And, here she was, five minutes in wishing he'd return.

"You can sit down," Shiro nodded in the direction of the one, old chair by the window. Allura jerked when she heard the response, because it was acceptance. She sat down.

"Been a rough day?" Brilliant.

But, Shiro almost laughed, "Something like that. I've had worse though. Sucks, but," and he shifted his torso in a way to make his lack of an arm more obvious than it was, "I'll get over it."

Allura blinked, and didn't seem to process much of his sentence except: "You've had worse?"

There was a heavy pause, and Shiro let out a heavier breath.

"This doesn't mean anything, okay? Just—maybe I do want to talk. Even if it's to you," he was rolling his eyes, and Allura noticed. "Just not about what happened."

"I didn't ask," she was smiling.

"Okay—I'm—was, I was a firefighter. Pretty new, but everyone was welcoming. Cool guys, one of them was about as young as me, and his mom would make lasagna for us sometimes."

Allura didn't bother to hide her little laugh, but Shiro didn't seem to mind it. Even smiled.

"Yeah, it was pretty ridiculous. But, it was the best at the same time. It wasn't the _dream,_ but it was a dream, and sometimes that's all you can manage, you know?"

And, she didn't, because she'd only had one dream. To dance, and she was dancing, "The dream, though? What was _the_ dream?"

Shiro laughed, and paused. He glanced off towards the edge of the bed and away from Allura. Thinking. "I wanted to be an astronaut—go into space. Maybe that wasn't ever going to happen—" Allura laughed, "but, at least a job with NASA. The dream. Guys called me Space Cadet."

"Wait, the whole Firefighters give the newbies nicknames is real?"

Shiro nodded all too fast, but Allura laughed again.

"Space Cadet," she repeated. Her face was a little red, and Shiro caught himself smiling back at her, wobbly and a little uncertain, but smiling.

"So, what's your 'the dream'?"

"Dancing! I mean. I want to be a dancer. The stage, the music, the people. It's absolutely amazing."

He gave her the smallest nod, because he didn't understand the want for dance, but he knew that bright glow in her eyes like something of an old friend. And he listened to her while she raved about the recitals, and her practices. The costumes, the makeup, the lighting. The time she sprained her ankle when she was eleven years old and thought for sure her dancing career was over before it even began. It was so genuine, so very much her life story, and she was just spilling it all with eyes lit up and blabbering on. Shiro just listened, an idle smile on his face. Her story soon devolved into just her life. He learned about her father, Alfor, apparently some big shot CEO, though she didn't mention the company. Her uncle, Coran, who wasn't really her uncle but he'd been there ever since she could remember. Then, the friends. Lance, from preschool. Keith and Hunk they met freshman year of high school. Now, seniors, and Pidge rolled her way into the group just a few years younger. Her story. Allura. Eighteen and ready to graduate, on her way to making it big with a college scholarship.

"Oh!" she suddenly stopped, eyes wide and looking at her phone. "That's Lance just now. He's back to get me."

"Your phone has gone off three times," Shiro pointed out, and his smile this time was real and unrestrained. Allura's face went red in an instant when she checked the time.

"Oh my, has it really been an hour? I'm so sorry, Shiro. I've spent the whole time talking," she began to scramble out of the chair.

"It's alright. I had a good time. You should…come back, sometime. When you're off shift. Like normal," which he said in a mocking tone. Allura's own words.

She took no offense, and instead nodded with some kind of resolve, "I shall. I will even talk to you on my shift, if I can manage. But, I simply must be going now. Lance has been waiting for too long, and now I owe him lunch," she dejectedly held up her phone, as though Shiro could see the texts from the distance. He could see the text bubbles, and the ones on the left were certainly long. So, he laughed.

She kept to her promise, and for the next several weeks, she did visit him. As often as possible. During her shifts, while the time was short and rushed, and during the weekends. They had a schedule, and Shiro enjoyed it. She wasn't there for the nitty gritty, and he never asked her to be. But, she was there in the aftermath. To talk about her recent dance recital, her father leaving for a business trip, the horribly large pizza party she'd had with her friends and Coran. Shiro almost wished he'd been there, but hearing about it was enough. She was honest, genuine, intense, even. She was everything. It wasn't until he realized that that he started to feel. Guilty. That he hadn't been so genuine. There was just that layer there, between them. He had meant it, when he met her, that he wanted her to leave. Wasn't ready for whatever it was she offering—companionship, understanding. Maybe not pity, which is what he had assumed.

Only, Allura had never once expressed that. Not in her eyes, not in her words. She didn't even mention the arm. The only time she talked about the bandages was when she'd noticed they were new. Clean, changed. And she'd ask if he'd had a rough day. Maybe the initial curiosity had turned him off; for as much as he enjoyed the talking, he still didn't want to talk about it. It. What happened. But, she'd stopped asking. Even about the scar on his nose. She was just. Understanding. He told her something and she got it, once, and if he ever slipped and yelled at her. And, he had. She snipped back, gently, and smiled. It was enough to tell him it wasn't alright that he did that. But.

"Oh, Lance is here," Allura stopped off her own story, Shiro's thoughts, and was looking at her phone. She'd put on a ringer now, only for when she was on these _normal_ visits, and would immediately put her phone back on vibrate after Lance's message.

"Can he drive around the block or something?" Shiro wondered. His question gave Allura pause, but she nodded and shot back a text. Then, one press into the side of her phone to turn the ringer back on.

"I forgot to tell you something, also. But, did you have something you needed to say?" she hadn't sat back down, though. Smiling. Always.

"No, you go first," because he needed time to work up the conviction.

"Oh! Well. Graduation is coming up, and I've got the biggest recital of my _life_ at the end of the school year. So, I might have to, um," she bit on her lip, "cut back on the visits?"

Shiro nodded.

"Not forever! Though, I mean, I guess you won't be here forever either. So, maybe it doesn't matter. I just thought I should tell you. I'm even cutting back on my volunteer hours…"

"Graduation's a big deal, though. I remember mine."

"Wait—remember? How old are you!?" she sounded scandalized. Shiro laughed in response; reasonably, she knew how old he was. She'd read the file. She'd forgotten

"Twenty-two."

Something about that was relieving, but she hoped Shiro didn't notice the sudden slump in her shoulders. It was only four years, right? And besides, she was eighteen, and graduating in less than two months. She had better things to worry about, than Shiro's miraculously convenient age. Like graduation, and her recital. And, purposefully ignoring the fact that Shiro was twenty-two, and already he was permanently disabled. That was a long time.

"You had something, then?" she interjected. The tenacity of it was almost enough to shock Shiro. He hadn't been wrapped up in his thoughts—she'd just near shouted into the quiet hospital room.

"Yeah, just… Just a poor thought out apology. It's nothing, go on."

"Wait, an…apology?" she shifted like she was uncomfortable. Her brows were all pushed up.

"No, no! Nothing bad—promise," he put his hands—hand—up in defense. Surrender. He didn't mean anything bad, it wasn't supreme betrayal or anything. Allura softened immediately.

Shiro took a deep breath, "Um. I got in a fight, when I was younger. My friends snuck us into a club, things didn't go so good. You can imagine."

Allura shook her head. She didn't go to clubs, as much as Lance liked to joke about them. He didn't either.

"I don't hang out with them anymore, but uh… left me with a good souvenir," he pointed to the scar. "Other guy had a knife, apparently." And he laughed. The way he was just so nonchalant about it made Allura scoff.

"You don't strike me as the type."

He shrugged, "You and me both. But that's not what the apology was about. It's stupid, really. But, I lied. And, I'm sorry."

He looked to Allura for something, and when she gave nothing, he continued:

"The guys, they didn't—well, nobody called me Space Cadet except my mom when I was, like, five," Allura held back a little laugh, a smile. "The guys called me Armstrong. Same idea, you know, space. But," glance down at what could have been his arm, if not for circumstance.

Allura's phone went off again. She ignored it in turn for thinking, then smiling, "Well. If two arms were a requirement, it'd be 'Arms-Trong', and that doesn't make sense."

The left went unsaid as she waved goodbye and ducked out the door. All that left was Shiro, dumbstruck, slouched against the pillows behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura keeps true to her promise, and just as she reaches the top, she falls. And, she falls hard.

True to her word, it was weeks before she was able to show her face at the hospital, and even then, it was a quick visit on a Saturday dressed up in her dance leotard with her hair half fallen out of a ponytail with her rush to arrive. It was her one free day. The _only_ day she could stop to see Shiro, and maybe this time work up the nerve to ask for his number, or email, or some way that they could keep in contact after he was discharged. Everything fell right into place. Lance dropped her off, she got right inside, and the nurse at reception smiled at her.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he said.

Allura's eyes were smiling, at least, but she still looked like she'd just walked out of a ragged exercise routine—which, she had, "It has been some time. Um, is it possible that I could see Shiro..?"

"Shiro?" the man looked a little shocked, then shifted in his chair to lean onto the counter. "Shiro was cleared for discharge about a week and a half ago. Left not a day after."

"D-Did anyone come to get him?" she wrung her hands together.

"Nope," he shook his head, "just called himself a cab and went off. All he had here were a couple of nick-knacks and a change of clothes—but we had to send someone out to his place to get him the clothes. Family never called, nobody ever came but you."

"Do you know where he is?"

"You know I can't share that with you. I would, if I could," he looked sympathetic, at least. He leaned back in his chair. "Sorry, Allura."

"Yeah… Yeah," she trailed off and began dialing on her phone, furiously. Lance didn't text and drive, but he certainly answered his phone.

He was back around the cul-de-sac to pick her up within ten minutes, and neither of them spoke. It was precisely the last time any of her friends even mentioned Shiro, or the hospital. Lance told them not to, because he didn't have to ask. There was a distant look in Allura's eyes, like she'd lost something before she'd even realized what it was. And, in that circumstance, there really wasn't much a way of finding it again. So, they dropped it. Forgot about it.

Two weeks later, Allura was smiling and twirling around in the parking lot of the high school and laughing. Their graduation was going to be long, tedious, and boring. Garrison High wasn't a small school, but at least it wasn't stuffy. They were to dress up, a formal event. No caps and gowns, just Allura spinning in her knee length blue and white dress.

"Come along, Allura," her father was urging her on, and she only laughed again.

"I've got to wait for my friends, first. We can't go in separately, it's our final year together!" and, it really was. Lance and Keith were traveling across the country, and somehow, were going to be at the same University. But, across the country, in the opposite direction from where Allura would be headed up north in the summer to set up her own dorm. Pidge had a couple years left of High School, and Hunk was going to work for a bit before really getting down to business. This was their final year, and maybe the last time they'd see each other for a while.

"Don't forget, you've that graduation party over the summer. This isn't, truly, the last time you'll see each other," Alfor nudged her forward, at least away from the car so he could close her door.

"Right, I forgot about the party!"

"I find that hard to believe, it's all you've been talking about, Allura," Coran was following them. He had her bag and shrug, that she'd forgotten in the back seat of the car. "If it's just your excuse to stall, it's a pretty bad one! Besides, I think I see Lance now," he pointed across the way. And, he was right. Lance, with his brothers and his sister, his mom, dad, aunt, uncle, everyone who'd come in for the party.

"Lance!" Allura dashed—walked quickly, because she hadn't quite mastered running in heels—across the parking lot. "We've got to go, we'll be late!"

"Yeesh, let me go," He tugged his arm. He took a moment to go over something with his mom, tell her where to go so they could all be seated. Allura stood by and watched, impressed, as per usual, at the way he handled things. Lance had been born here, but his family was from Cuba, and they spoke primarily Spanish.

"Don't worry," Alfor interjected, "you two go along before you're late. We can show them the way."

Lance smiled, "Yeah. Sure. Thanks," and he grabbed Allura by the arm before he'd even taken another breath. She didn't get her bag or her shrug, but she and Lance were off down the sidewalk. Graduation didn't start for another forty-five minutes, but they were supposed to be there early to set up, get in position. All the tedious details nobody really cared about, because it wasn't the big, overdone fake walk across the stage to get a piece of paper. Everyone knew it wasn't a real diploma, except the parents and extended family, and everyone who wasn't either apart of the graduation preparation or graduating.

But, it didn't undo the excitement of sitting there in the first five rows of auditorium seats, just waiting for her name to be called. It was just exciting watching Hunk.Then Keith. And Lance followed shortly after. And then Allura heard her own name. That was it—she'd graduated. No more high school. Just college and a bright career. She was absolutely beaming when she was on the stage, taking her fake little diploma and shaking the Principle's hand. She turned just slightly and met the flash of a camera, because no doubt Coran was taking an abundance of pictures. He'd no doubt show them off to everyone the moment he could. But, in the end, she couldn't even bring herself to care.

That camera was perfect. When they'd all made their way over to the reception, which was in a vaguely decorated cafeteria, Allura was dragging Coran by the arm over to their little group huddled in the corner. Pidge had made it to the graduation, her family had come and she'd made her way over to them as soon as she was able. Big glasses and what would be big tears if she wasn't biting the inside of her lip to keep it from happening.

"Come now, one last picture! We must commemorate this. Coran?"

"Of course, of course, all together now!" he was already holding up the camera. It was a scramble after that, trying to get into the frame, shifting around. Bumping, hitting, accidental or not. They somehow managed to squeeze themselves together. Coran took the picture. Then, told them ever so smugly that he'd been taking pictures the whole time. Then, oh then, they were laughing. Lance was lunging for the camera, but Coran managed a few more shots before Lance finally got it. He didn't get to hold onto it for long; Allura plucked it right from his grasp to show the group the pictures.

"Have we all rsvp'd for that party?" she asked.

Pidge immediately huffed and dropped back into her chair, "I can't go! I'm not a graduate, so I wasn't even invited."

"We could sneak you in," Lance tried, and that earned him three glares and one very happy Pidge. It was the thought that counted, he thought. She thought so too, because she didn't turn sour as they continued.

"I've already got custody of the van," Lance then went on to boast, "Mama said I could drive us all down there, since _Keith_ doesn't have a real sized car."

"Oh, she wanted me to drive us?" he scoffed. "I knew she liked me better."

Lance couldn't have looked more offended if he tried, and they all laughed.

"We must start packing immediately," Allura interjected.

"Make sure to bring _extra_ sunscreen for your delicate skin," Lance's eyelashes were fluttering, and he was looking directly at Keith. Keith, whose nose was wrinkling up with annoyance.

"I can bring some for you if you don't have any. No need to buy," Hunk offered. It was so innocent Lance almost died where he stood, but instead he just flopped forward onto the table. Hunk didn't quite get the theatrics, but Keith laughed.

"Well, now that we've got that figured out," Allura was playing too, with the serious side of it all. Because, for what it was worth, Keith probably needed sunscreen. "I heard there is a fantastic waterfall where we're all going, at least a lake. So, be sure to bring your swimwear."

"Hey, bring me back a cool rock or something, okay?" Pidge said weakly, with weak eyes, reaching weakly for Hunk.

"Of course. We'll remember you fondly and bring it back for your grave," he put his hands together and nodded, eyes closed.

It was all mostly hypothetical, and the topic shifted while they sat there. They ate, drank far too much punch than was probably healthy. By the end of the night, Lance's teeth were blue from the cupcakes, and they were all still laughing together. Until it was time for them to go, the reception over and night well on its way. There were no obnoxiously tearful hugs and good lucks; that's what the party was for. Which, now they had just over a week to pack and prepare for. Except Allura, who had a dance recital the following evening. It was her final one with her dance class, before she graduated that too. It was the biggest event of her life, and everyone who was anyone would be there. Sure, she was already on track to go to college in the Fall. But, a recruiter, an agent. Anything could get better.

She hadn't thought about the Hospital in weeks. Hadn't picked her volunteer shifts back up. Hadn't thought about Shiro, or what happened. Instead, she went home and went straight to sleep. She woke up to her alarm clock at 6 o'clock promptly, and put on her shoes one foot at a time like anyone else. She had her bag, breakfast, and a long pleasant chat over coffee with her father. About the dance, the required urge to stay safe on the upcoming trip. Everything that he should have told her, and then he walked her to the door and gave her a kiss on her cheek.

"I'll be there to see the recital," he promised.

She nodded, "Thanks. I'll be there to dance."

"Just as I'd have it. Now, as I'm sure they say, kick some ass."

He was pushing her out the door before she could tell him that wasn't the _exact_ phrase to be used here, because it wasn't a competition. But, it didn't matter, because she had places to be. Practice and warm up, and then the recital. She was caught up in the excitement of planning, though. She had a mental checklist of what she was packing to bring on the trip, to the party. It was a real and true camping party. Keith was bringing the tent, because apparently he and his dad used to go camping all the time, and had a tent big enough for the four of them. Allura would believe it when she saw it, or they were making Lance sleep in the lake. They'd already decided. Hunk, as promised, was bringing the sunscreen and anything of the sort. Tanning oil, maybe, because Keith was in terrible need of it. Lance was bringing the van so he wasn't in charge of anything but water and a good playlist. The van had an AUX plug. Allura was in charge of snacks and first aid. Mostly of her own volition, the first aid, because it was a party. The snacks were because you can't trust people at a party to bring good food. The snacks were for them. In their tent, for the night, because sleeping was for idiots.

First things first, the recital. She stretched, she practiced, stretched again, and went in for the warm up. Then, she was there. Waiting backstage and stretching still, listening for her cue. Then, there it was. She was back out on the stage for her big and final reveal. As promised, Alfor and Coran were sitting in one of the front rows with a camera. She danced. Danced in the lights, to the beat of the music. She could hear it in her bones, the way the rhythm went on around her. Like life. Like something utterly and completely magical. When she twirled, when she turned, she picked her spot to stare right into the lens of the camera. This was everything. This was her.

And, for the four minutes the song persisted, she had the world. She could see herself, see this stage, as Broadway, as travel abroad. It was the world, because she could see the world. Just as she outstretched her hand for the final pose, breathing heavily and smiling just as brightly. One more look for the camera, and the song died down. Then, the clapping. The applause, the way it carried on the music, and there was shouting. The lights died after, the curtains closed, and she could still hear the clapping. She breathed it in, let her eyes close and she listened to it. Then, she popped off the ground and spun on her heel before making her way off stage.

"That was absolutely fantastic, Allura," her dance teacher was near running for her, taking her by the shoulders. "I can't believe it. You've come so far!"

Allura was beaming, "Thank you, thank you."

"Yes, now, hurry! We must get you out of this costume in time to do the graduating part. Come along now," she was ushering Allura off seconds later. Because, it was a dance recital at the school, for the school, by the school. Allura was graduating, along with others, and those who were moving onto the next class. It was a big deal, and another graduation for her to smile through and listen to the thumping of her heart.

But, then, her only care was snacks. Which, she presented a very detailed list to Coran and gave him the best puppy eyes she could muster. He stared at her, like he always did, and eyed the list suspiciously. He took it, examined it. They had just arrived back at the house, and Coran was on his way out. Home. When Allura had given him the paper and stared at him with fluttering eyelashes and hands clasped behind her back.

"Allura, haven't you bothered Coran enough yet?" Alfor asked her, exasperated.

"No, no," Coran interrupted. "It's quite alright. It's her final year of high school, and after this she'll be all on her own. I can spoil her a little longer."

Alfor sighed, but Allura cheered. Her excitement was contagious; Alfor broke out into a smile and shook his head, almost laughing as he plopped down onto the couch, sinking into the cushions and resting against the armrest.

"It's your paycheck," he teased.

Coran made an overly histrionic bow before making his departure, with a vague promise to bring the princess's desires to her come the following morning, so he might at least find time to sleep. Which, of course was an acceptable response. Allura had other packing to do. Now, just down to six days to pack for the trip. The sixth day was leaving, so five and a half. She was determined to make the best of it, and everything fell into a plan. Like it always did.

She checked off the snacks when Coran dropped by in the afternoon—not morning—of the following day. Then, they were packed in appropriate containers, and then into a cooler. There were extras, for Pidge, so she could have a good last supper before they left her for the weekend. She checked off each shirt she decided to pack, which was more than the necessary three, because they were going to be outside. No doubt swimming, and it was hot. Between the lake and the sweat, she would surely need to change clothes a few times. Then, pants. Well, shorts as it were. Because it was hot and sticky, and maybe pants were better for hiking, but she wasn't a hiker, and Keith was going to have to deal with it. One jacket for rain, and two pairs of shoes just to be safe. Only to of course find, come five and a half days later when Lance was waiting outside her front door, she'd packed a bit too much.

Lance had a backpack. Keith had a duffel bag, and they still needed to get Hunk. Allura blinked, then frowned. They were both trying to stifle the laughing at her over-sized bag. At least it wasn't a suitcase, she had that much sense. Lance still had the decency to hop out of the driver seat and take the cooler, which affectionately got to sit in the front seat so nobody would fight over it. On the floorboards, so it wasn't that special, but it meant nobody could sit in the passenger seat. The van was big enough. Two rows of seats in the back: a full back row and two separated seats in the middle. Keith took the one behind the driver's seat, and Allura in the other one. She slid the door shut behind her, waving off to Alfor as he saw her off.

"So, road trip," Lance smirked into the rear view mirror.

"Last time you said that we got lost on some back road and the tire blew," Keith frowned. "Don't say road trip."

"Vacation?" he tried again, less sure of himself.

Allura grimaced, "last time we went on vacation together, the motel had bed bugs."

"Field trip," he decided, a straight face. "Field trips are safe."

"Except that one time in fourth grade—"

"Field trips are safe!"

Allura started to laugh, and Keith looked at her with wide eyes and the smallest smile. A face she knew well-curiosity. So, she beckoned him just a little closer so she could whisper the story to him across the divide, and Lance took off down her street.

They picked up Hunk without a hitch, and he wormed his way into the back seat. Snacks were distributed before Lance started driving, and they were off. Lance had a bad habit of absorbing himself horribly into things, in the funny way in which he would stick his tongue out and lean forward—into the steering wheel in this case. This was a new area, he'd never been, and had nothing but a GPS to guide him. Which meant he was quiet, and if ever they got too loud in the back, he shushed them. The music was low, and somehow, because of it, they arrived without getting lost.

"This is a forest," Lance proclaimed, the minute they had parked on the gravel way. He smacked his hand to his neck seconds later. "There are bugs."

All around them, others from their class were already unpacking, unpacked. A teacher or two, some parents that Allura recognized. All for the weekend in the woods, because that's what the class had voted on for their graduation trip. Lance had voted too. Lance voted in favor.

"You knew there would be bugs, idiot," Keith rolled his eyes, walked right by him in favor for unpacking the van.

"He's right. You even helped this trip win," Allura reminded. "You may have even been the deciding vote."

Lance groaned.

They got to the unpacking after that. Then, the tent. The sleeping bags. Stashing the snacks where other, hungry and disappointed students wouldn't find them. Things were precariously set up in the tent, because they were friends, but there was still some modicum of privacy for Allura. The tent was large enough, but it wasn't one of those big fancy ones that had rooms or anything. Nobody could be _that_ into camping, not even Keith. Who, had been a bit of a tyrant over them as they got their mini campsite set up. No harm done, however, and the four of them plopped down, exhausted, at a ring of log-benches around a fire pit. This place was _hours_ out of town, and was still an actively working campground they had all just paid to be at. Still, as close as the wilderness as they were going to get.

"So," Lance began, and everyone stared at him. He didn't continue, though.

"So?" Hunk nudged him with his elbow, like it'd make him talk or something. Lance gave him a look from the corner of his eye, pursed his lips.

"You all know there's a waterfall? Hour's hike that way," he jabbed his thumb behind him. And, sure enough, somewhere off in the distance, they could make out a small trail marker.

"What about it?" Allura asked. An hour's hike meant hiking, which she hadn't come wanting to do.

"We should _take_ that hike. To the waterfall. In our bathing suits."

"Oh, it's that diver's place, yeah?" Keith looked at each of them, like he didn't really know if he was right and was hoping someone else would tell him if he was. Nobody really knew, except Lance, who suddenly a wide, prideful little grin on his face.

"Oh, yes, indeed," and he hopped up to his feet "'But Lance—!' you say, pathetically! 'We can just go swimming in the lake!'" he brought the back of his hand to his forehead, like he was swooning and about to fall back.

"We can," Keith said. Allura snickered at his seriousness.

"We can! You're absolutely right. But!" Lance extended his arms out, "Are we quitters? Do we give up?"

"Actually—"

"No, Hunk! If we had given up, we wouldn't have finished high school!" his arms slapped together until he was hugging himself. "We must jump the waterfall."

"You're crazy," Allura said, a heavy sigh as she slumped back to rest on her hand.

"I may be crazy, my dear, Allura, but! Everyone does it. It's not even that tall of a waterfall. C'mon, it's so much cooler than swimming somewhere up here," Lance dropped down to his log, and gave them a disappointed, glazed look.

"Well…" Allura pondered, "it can't be that bad. And, I did used to swim when I was younger."

"Great!" Lance was back up in a second. "No time to reminisce about the past, Allura. We've got to get ready!" He dropped his shorts right there to reveal a smaller, more colorful pair of shorts. Not shorts, but swimming trunks.

"Good. He's prepared," Hunk was just as shocked as the rest of them, a little more offended that Lance had essentially stripped.

They took turns using the tent, Allura went first, all emerging looking exactly the same as they had before. It was just expected they now had their swimwear on, and Allura's hair was done up in a bun on top of her head. Lance was waiting, impatiently, for them all to finish, and immediately thrust a bottle of sunscreen at Keith. He glared, but wasn't ungrateful. Lance paused for no man, though, and was breaking the path for them. And, Allura had to admit. She was a little excited. She'd never really done anything too adventurous. It might have been too obvious, since Lance hadn't really tried too hard to convince them. She couldn't pinpoint why Keith and Hunk came along, though she figured it had something to do with supervision. Keith was the oldest, and Hunk had that self-proclaimed group mother thing going on. This was just something for Allura, to see if she could do it. If she could really go see that waterfall and jump right off of it.

A last hurrah before college ate up her life. Ate it up and became it, because that's what it would take.

"You said an hour's hike, right?" she still had to confirm.

Lance nodded and hummed an affirmative at her.

And it was, on the mark, an hour. An hour of no bug spray and spiderwebs that had somehow been strung across the entire trail way, which, made more sense when Allura took the time to realize that the trail was only, vaguely, a person and a half wide. Still, the walk was more than obnoxious, and somehow they managed not to fill the entire thing with grunting silence. Lance only tripped once, and they were there. They heard it before they approached it, and as the hour had progressed, they had come closer and closer to the river which started it. And, it was just there, suddenly, pouring over the cliff side.

"And would you look at that," Lance was the first one to trot over to it, his eyes full of curiosity and wonder. He peered down over the side. It wasn't hugely, impressively tall. Just tall enough, and it was surely deep enough. This was a popular cliff diving spot, as it were, which meant nobody had to actually make sure they wouldn't die on impact because the lake below was only two-inches deep. Instead, none of that even crossed their minds—because it was safe. The noise it made was loud, but the white water and the rate at which it just tumbled on over and into the air was painfully impressive. The grass around it was so green, and the sides of the cliff seemed to tapper off into hills.

"Who's jumping first?" Lance looked back at the group.

Without hesitation: "You," everyone.

Lance looked a bit taken aback, "Me? Why me? You all scared?"

"Terrified," Keith peered over the edge.

"It was your idea, man," which, nobody was going to use as an excuse, but Hunk was looking more nervous than he was willing to admit. He hadn't even approached the edge.

"Allura?" Lance tried.

"Um…" she was peering over the end, and it left a strange tingle in her fingers. She had been ready to do this an hour ago, but now it was an hour later, and the sun was on its way down. The waterfall was on its way down, and from right on top, it looked so tall, so much taller than her Internet searches had lead to.

"I'll go first," Lance put his hands on his hips, decided it for them even though they'd all been assured he'd take the plunge. It was his idea, and he always had something to prove. Some bit of bravado going on that just made him Lance.

They all took a few steps back, to give Lance space. He had so delicately asked for it with his arms spread wide and a prideful look painted over him. Then, he had stripped off his shirt and kicked off his shoes, socks. Left them there in the grass and stepped away. From there, he made some sort of a show out of breathing. His eyes were closed, breaths loud and deep. Then, he was off, running down the grass alongside the river and making that jump over the edge. Allura, Hunk, and Keith moved in unison, up to the side off the cliff to peer down and watch Lance's fall. He was screaming, and the splash came soon after. It was an impressive bit of water he threw up, and when it all settled, Lance came right up through the water gasping for air.

"I'm not dead!" he shouted back at them, all the way up the cliff, and they were laughing.

"He's crazy!" Hunk had fallen back into the grass with his laughter, eyes closed and tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. Keith, on the other hand, was laughing. But, it was that weak and uncomfortable laugh that was trying desperately to hide relief. The drop seemed safe until you actually saw someone plummeting off of it. Allura laughed, genuinely and truly, but.

"I'm next," she decided. Before anyone could even think to reply, she as already shimmying out of her shorts. At that point, there'd be no talking her out of it.

"Yeah, you get them, Allura!" Hunk pumped his fist in the air.

She left her clothes in a pile by Lance's, and took the same place he had in just her swimsuit. Hunk was clapping for her, Keith was cheering her on. She was going to do it. She was going to jump off this cliff with every ounce of power she had, and she was going to fly. She smirked, felt some surge shoot straight through her, and she took off running. There could be no hesitation, she had to go for it. Now or never, and it was just like dancing. She leaped off the edge of the cliff, leaped just like she would on stage, with all the intensity and drama of a performance. She could almost hear the applause as she flew through the air, and then down she went.

Keith and Hunk ran to the edge, like they had with Lance, and watched Allura dive. Watched as she went down, down, and down. The water splashed when she made contact, and the splash was huge. Lance was laughing, clapping, because she'd outdone him. A better dive, a bigger splash. All more dramatic and better. Her confidence was something, and Keith was eyeing the lake like maybe he wanted to try. Then, the water fell back in on itself. Splashed again, waves, then stilled. Settled save for the small ripples from where Lance was treading water.

One second.

Two.

Three.

"Allura?!" Keith yelled for her.

"If this is a joke, it isn't funny!" Hunk was ringing his bandana in his hands.

Four, and the panic was setting in. Keith and Hunk were up in seconds, running. The way the cliff had died off into hills down by the banks had been wonderful, fantastic, and now it was convenient. Just a faster way to find out if Allura was okay. _Alive._ Lance was screaming something, to them. Like they weren't already barreling down as fast as they could, and then Lance was gone too. Keith just made it to the edge of the water, Hunk somewhere behind him, as Lance dove back under the water.

It was like something out of a horror movie. He'd sucked in a deep breath and dove. Under the water, he had to open his eyes. It was getting darker with each passing moment, and if it got dark, he'd never find her. Except, he did, almost immediately. Just, there, like she was falling through air but stuck somewhere in time. Sinking. It took too long for the word to connect. She was sinking. Because she wasn't swimming. Maybe wasn't breathing. Lance could feel the thumping in his ears, and he had to hurry. Get to her, grab her. It went from horror movie to nightmare. She was limp. Boneless. Weightless, in the water. The world boiled down to the thumping in his chest, in his throat, and he'd all but stopped breathing when breached the surface.

"Y-You gotta call someone!" he sputtered. Keith was on his knees at the edge of the water, fingers gripping into the grass and dirt, and he looked terrified. Hunk was next to him, fumbling and scrambling with his phone.

Lance went back to swimming. He had one arm around Allura, and still struggling to keep hold on her. The water was fighting against him, and it was hard to see. He focused on Keith, the light of Hunk's phone behind him as he tapped furiously to unlock it. Keith's arm was out. Lance abandoned a full stroke to reach out and grab his hand, and Keith made up for the distance by pulling them both to shore. Behind them, Hunk was desperately trying to explain their situation to someone, when nobody knew what happened. Only that Lance was trembling, shaking while he tried to administer CPR.

Keith had called the trip overseer, their science teacher who had insisted that everyone have his number before the night really started. For things like this. He was just hanging up when Allura was suddenly gasping, coughing up water and lying there so unnaturally still. Lance was still wobbly, shivering almost from the cold as much as shock. But, the moment Allura opened her eyes, he was back over her. Wiping her hair out of her mouth, blaming himself. There were voices and rustling in the distance, but it was just the four of them for a moment.

"Lance—I can't move," her voice sounded. Broken.

"That's not funny," he shook his head. "None of this is funny."

"I can't _move_ —! Lance—" and she was suddenly sobbing. Before Lance could say anything, he was being pulled back and tripping onto his feet. It was out of his hands now, out of all of their hands.

The three of them huddled off by themselves, in silence, in fear. Allura was still crying when the ambulance arrived. Passively. Like she wasn't able to stop even as the life drained out of her. Even in the dark, they could all see it. The gray color that just washed over her, and it wasn't the water. It was that moment they realized none of it was a joke. She couldn't move. They'd watched as she was manhandled onto the stretcher. Helpless. Everything Allura wasn't. Everything she was never going to be, and there she was. Being carted off to the hospital, and they couldn't come. Instead, when it was all said and done, and they were left in the dark, Lance waded right back into the water. Neither of them tried to stop him. Just watched, idly, in case the worst was about to happen again, as if somehow just the water had the ability to do to Allura what had happened. Lance came back though. His face was wet and blotchy.

"There's a fucking log," he muttered.

When they made it back to their tiny campsite, Keith didn't ask when Lance gave him the keys. Nobody asked when they broke down the tent, stashed away their snacks, and were careful with Allura's stuff in the back. The radio stayed on, but the volume was even lower than it had been on the drive up. Keith didn't need to concentrate quite so dramatically on the GPS, but nobody wanted to talk. So, the drive was even longer than it had been in the first place. Dragged on for exactly two hours and forty three minutes, for years, before Keith was pulling into a parking space.

Nobody asked why he'd driven to the hospital. It was mechanical, the way they all got out of the van and went inside. Keith talked to the nurse at reception for them. Allura was here. That's all they got to know, and it was suddenly a dreadful assumption of the worst. All they could do was sit in the waiting room, off in the corner, and listen to the news playing quietly on a corner TV. Someone had the foresight to call her father, and Alfor came through the door some odd amount of time later. Lance watched as he talked to the nurse, and how his face fell from horrified to absolutely petrified. Lance grimaced.

"She'll live, ya know," Keith tried. It was meant to be comforting, really, but.

"That's not what I'm worried about. She said she couldn't _move_ —" he stopped short, sucking in a breath. Nobody had noticed how close he was to crying until that moment. Hunk shot them both a sympathetic look, but it was clear he didn't know what to say either. Didn't know what to think.

"We could've just gone swimming like normal people, but I wanted to be cool," he dropped his head in his hands. "If she hadn't gone. If I hadn't talked you guys into coming with me—"

"Stop it," Keith's voice was stern. Angry, almost. It was enough that Lance jerked to look at him.

"Stop acting like you did this to her. When she comes out of this hospital, she's not going to want to deal with your sniveling martyr-syndrome. We have to _be_ there for her! We can't just be wallowing around like we put the log in the water—!" Keith was standing by the time he was done, and the look on Lance's face was heartbreaking. And it did, in a way, hurt when Keith looked at him. So, he did the next best thing and stormed off.

Keith didn't come back for another hour. He had coffee, one small Styrofoam cup for each of them. He sat back down next to Lance to hand him the coffee, and it was the quiet, silent apology that was so like them.

By the time morning finally rolled around, they had each had some sort of bad-for-your-back nap in one of the hospital chairs, and Alfor was stepping out of a hallway to see them. He looked shocked, almost, that they were all still there, but didn't mention it. The answer was clear—that's what friends did. So, instead, he shared the news with them. Allura had broken her neck. Sustained a C4 and C5 spinal cord injury. They didn't have to hear the rest. They'd all paid well enough attention in mandatory senior year anatomy class to know what that meant.

"She doesn't want any visitors," Alfor told them.

"She tell you that?" Lance half sniffed, half laughed.

"The nurse did," he cleared his throat. Lance finally looked up from his long empty cup of once coffee and met Alfor's gaze. The look of a broken man who hadn't seen his broken daughter. Grim. Solemn.

"Someone should tell Pidge," Lance mumbled, looking back down at his cup. He wasn't going to do it. Nobody else made much of a move either.

"The three of you should head home. Your families must be worried, and with Allura not wanting visitors. Well… I did ask the nurse to pass along you were here."

They didn't argue. Lance handed Keith the keys again, and they were off. They dropped Hunk off first, helped him bring in his things. He promised he'd take care of telling Pidge what happened. She deserved to know, she really did, and Hunk knew her the best of their small group. Even if he didn't want to, the look of relief on Lance's face was something horrendously better than the despair he'd been wearing like Chanel. After that, Keith went straight to his own house.

"You can come in, if you want," he offered, still sitting awkwardly with his hands on the wheel.

"Nah," Lance stretched.

"You haven't slept—"

"You drove us here, I can drive myself home. Besides, I gotta figure out what to do with Allura's stuff," which they hadn't remembered to tell Alfor about, so he still had it in the back of the van. It was the end of the argument, either way, at the mention of Allura's name. It reminded them why her stuff was with them, not with her. That she was at the hospital and refusing visitors.

"I'll text you later then," Keith stayed quiet. They switched seats, and Keith carried his stuff out the van without help.

-

Allura got the news after she'd had some rest. Fretful, as it could've been, if she was able to move. Instead, she woke up feeling groggy and wrong. Humiliated, when a nurse had to feed her breakfast. Depressed, when she wanted to turn off the TV and realized too little too late that she couldn't move. She could still feel; she really and truly believed and focused on that she could still feel her body. There, motionless. But, there. Like it being there meant more than the fact that she had no control over it anymore. All she could do was lay there and wait for someone to come in. And, come in they did, the doctor who looked at her with pity and made her feel sick.

"I'm afraid you're paralyzed, Allura."

Paralyzed. Like it was some gross fact she was just reading off the sheet. She didn't feel sorry for her. She pitied her.

"We've gone over the x-rays, done the tests," her smile was strange, "there may be some options to discuss with your father to prevent the possibility of further damage, but we're not seeing regained movement in the future. Of course, we'll work with you best we can. We'll get you started with a physical therapist, make sure you and your father are as prepared for life outside of the hospital. It'll be a hard road."

Allura didn't say anything. Didn't look at the doctor. Just, sat there. Motionless, because that's all she could do, and it's all she would do. She listened to the doctor rattle off what she might—was already—experiencing. Weak breathing. Trouble controlling her bladder. And of course, absolute and total paralysis. She was paralyzed. Eventually, in her silence, the doctor and her collection of nurses left the room. With the TV now off, Allura had time to lay there and stew. All if it could get better with time. All of it, except movement.

Her dance career was over. Her scholarship was based solely on her ability to dance. Which meant her college life was over. All of it, over, before it even began. When she closed her eyes, she could remember the sound of the applause, the piano music, the quiet thump of her feet against the stage. She could see herself sitting in a classroom with her laptop and her books. And, then, nothing.

The days went by horrendously slow. She denied every single time someone was there to see her. Mostly it was her father, though sometimes he came with Coran. Lance stopped by once, and only once. Hearing it directly from a nurse that Allura didn't want to see him was unbearable. Pidge and Hunk came by twice, but after the second time, they got the hint. Keith never showed, and that was exactly how Allura knew him to be. A quiet sufferer, which was fine. It left her alone, and in total silence. She'd never gotten so much sleep, though each passing second was stressful. In her fitful rest, she was beginning to map and schedule out the doctor's stops, and the nurses, and the janitors, all on her own. She didn't need to ask, or to know, when they'd stop by. It was like clockwork, and that was when one completely unscheduled door open shocked her to wake in an instant.

"I don't want any visitors—" she stopped, eyes wide. Didn't wait a beat, "Get out."

But, he didn't. He stood there. Bandage free, still one-armed, and wide eyes, "Allura?"

She choked up immediately; she hadn't remembered Shiro ever saying her name before, and the way he said it now was with so much. Shock.

"This isn't how I was hoping to see you again."

"Get _out_. I don't want to see anybody, and you can't just come barging into people's—" but, she had. She'd barged into his room over three months ago, and now. Now he was standing there with his hand on his hip and watching her with something. Understanding, maybe.

"Leave me alone," she decided on.

"I was just stopping in—I've got a check up to get to. They're, um," gestured with his head to the stub his right arm had become, "fitting me for a prosthetic."

Allura's face scrunched up. He'd lost an arm, and they were going to fix it. She'd lost her life, and they told her regained mobility was impossible.

"Leave," she tried again.

"What happened?" he had to ask.

"I said _leave_ ," she snapped this time, her voice cracking part way. Like she was going to cry.

He gave her the sweetest smile he could muster. Without the bandages, without the bedridden nature she'd met him with before, he looked so different. He certainly hadn't had the white strip of hair when she'd seen him before. And he hadn't looked so alive either. It made Allura feel bitter, angry, almost. That Shiro was going to get his life back together, and she had already lost everything. Still, he had the audacity to smile at her like he understood, like he _got_ it, when no one else in the world was going to. After all, a prosthetic wasn't an arm. Just a functional mockery of one.

"I've been pretty down since I was let out," he continued anyway, "just been sitting at home. Disability is paying my bills for now. I've been feeling a little saggy, so," he hummed, shrugging with his smile like this moment was just so good for him that his whole body had to perk up. "I'll come visit tomorrow."

He'd just seen her through the window, walking by on his way to see his doctor. That was all. Just happened to glance the right way at the right time, and had all but pleaded to be allowed to go inside. The nurses had wanted to honor Allura's wish to be alone, not to have visitors, but Shiro told them how she used to volunteer at the hospital. How she'd helped him when he was sitting in his room, alone, and refusing visitors. After that, they couldn't refuse to let him see her. And, now, he was promising to see her the following day. She looked stunned, shocked, maybe even confused at best. But, she didn't say anything.

Without a definitive "no", he walked straight through her door the next day and presented her with a little, round device. A speaker, she was told, voice activated. The TV wasn't a good time waster, especially since she couldn't change channels, and he'd wasted his time reading. She couldn't very well do that either, but with a speaker, her options were limitless. She could tell it play her music, from her phone, or to even read to her if she downloaded an audio book or two. He offered to help if she wanted an audio book, because he'd read a few good books he was just dying to talk to someone about. The whole time, while he was rambling on about the books and the possibilities of this little thing, Allura just stared at him. She didn't tell him to get out. She didn't say hello. She just watched, and he used it as an excuse to continue his work. And, once it was done, he left for only a moment to retrieve the bouquet he'd gotten.

"Every hospital room needs flowers," he explained. "Your family is supposed to bring them, but I hear you keep telling them off."

"Glad that's going around," she muttered. Shiro laughed, quietly.

"It's alright. I don't have family, but if I did, I wouldn't have wanted to see them either. They mean well, but," he was looking at the flowers while he spoke, while he paused to breathe, "they don't get it. Nobody gets it unless they've sat in that bed and stared at the wall."

Just like that, Shiro brightened up her hospital room. Because, maybe he didn't understand what it was like to sit there paralyzed, but he understood, well enough, the helplessness. She couldn't tell him to leave, after that. Instead, she invited him to come back, if he wanted to. He did and, for what it was worth, smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check Out My Tumblr If You Want To See More](https://tantumuna.tumblr.com)   
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro finds the strangest things to say at the best time, and they work. Allura finds comfort in them. She finds life, somewhere, too.

When Shiro returned again, he had a toy space ship, which he propped up on her bedside table in a little plastic stand. It went nicely next to the statuette of ballet shoes, which he had proudly brought in the day before. Allura was less impressed with that particular gift, but she smiled at the space ship. It had been several days, and she was past telling Shiro to leave. Because, just as she hadn't, he wasn't listening to her demands. Instead, he came by everyday with a replacement bouquet and a new present. Nothing had been so extravagant as the voice-command device he'd first given her, but she appreciated them. They brought a new life to her little side of the world, because they were all she saw. Everything in the room had come straight from Shiro, except the closed purple card lying on the table opposite his display.

"Finally let your family visit?" Shiro asked.

She shook her head, "No, um," and always, in her mind, she could see herself reaching out to grab it so she could look at it again. In reality, the nurse had shown it to her twice, and she had held onto the image of it for her fantasy. "It's from my friends. A nurse brought it to me."

"Oh? That Lance character again?"

Allura almost laughed, "Please, he's not a character. Just eccentric. He had everyone get me a card, but my…dad dropped it off."

Shiro looked at her, looked at the card, "You should probably take it easy." She sounded weak, at the best.

He moved around the edge of the bed, up to the table so he could see the card. He asked her first, silently, with just a glance. She gave a faint nod, and watched as Shiro picked up the card and opened it. Read the get wells and the miss yous. Smiled at the joke that Lance had added, chuckled when Keith's comment read more like a threat than a genuine comment of concern.

"They're good people," Allura told him.

"They are," Shiro agreed, and set the card down just so, slightly open and facing towards Allura. So she could read it if she only turned her head, and the gesture did not go unnoticed.

They talked—he talked, an Allura listened. She was propped up on the bed, her head lulled to the side so she could look at Shiro while he talked. He seemed so much brighter than he had months ago, sitting where she was. He wasn't doing anything, and she truly found that out. Listening to him now, she didn't hear anything about going places or friends. They were stories from the news, from articles, from dreams he'd had and woken up from on the couch with his bag of chips half fallen on the floor. But, they were everything. Everything, and he still had to leave when he was told. No goodbyes, because he'd be back; that, he didn't have to say anymore. Allura knew. Allura counted on it.

Shiro pulled the door shut behind him quietly, and went along on his way. Down the hallway, out the big double doors at the end, and out into the main area. Where, a nurse stopped him with a strange look on her face and a hand on his shoulder. His shoulder with an arm, but he'd learned to stop being bothered by the fact that people were bothered. Even nurses and doctors. Still, he listened to the nurse, who told him there was someone who wanted to see him. Someone who wanted to see "the only person his daughter is willing to allow visitation." Shiro was a big man, and he'd always been aware of that, but the wording—the implication—was enough to make his lurch. The term daughter was enough to tell him who he was meeting, but when he stepped out into the room and saw a man who looked just like Allura.

"Good afternoon, Sir," Shiro held out his hand, smiling his best smile. A left-handed shake was a little unorthodox, but it's all he could manage.

Alfor shook his hand without even so much as a beat of hesitation, "Good afternoon."

"So. Nurse told me you wanted to talk to the person who's been visiting Allura?"

"Indeed, and I'll assume it's you?" he managed a smile, but it was tired. Not angry. Shiro was beginning to feel less nervous.

"Takeshi Shirogane, sir. Everyone calls me Shiro," the handshake finally ended.

"Alfor," he replied. Then there was silence, the uncomfortable kind where Shiro wasn't sure what he should do with his hand, but Alfor cleared his throat and continued.

"I've been told you visit her everyday, and she's…smiling. That's the only part that matters. I'm told she's to start some type of therapy after this? They're convinced she won't recover any movement, but it'll still take some time if she's to be able to power a wheel chair, and…" he closed his eyes to breathe for a moment, "if she must go through these things, I'd rather she not go through them alone. Surely, you understand?"

And, he did. Because he'd gone through his recovery alone. He was going through his life alone, in an empty apartment, with an empty drive to and from the hospital. There was nobody sitting in the waiting room for him when his appointments were finished. Somehow, he wanted to convey that, but only nodded.

"She won't let me visit her. She's even turned away her friends, but not you. Something about you has made her comfortable, and I do think I can see why," because it was obvious. He'd been here before, Alfor could see that. "If she allows it, I'd ask that you are there for her in the coming months as well. I know it's a lot to ask—"

"No, I'll do it. I was planning on it, but if you're asking me, I've got to."

Alfor smiled, "Thank you, Shiro."

True to his word, Shiro showed up bright and early for the second day of Allura's physical therapy. He hadn't been told when it was starting, and unfortunately was absent day one. Day two, he found it a little strange that it was physical therapy. The doctors were adamant that Allura would never walk again. May not ever move her arms, nor even her fingers. But, she had to exercise them anyway to keep muscle atrophy away. To keep things from going stiff and rigid, or stalling in place. The nurses moved her. Day four, she was comfortable enough to let Shiro learn how to do it too.

"They're getting me a wheelchair next," Allura told him, watching intently as he bent back her hand. "Father's paying for everything, of course."

"Ah, money's nice," Shiro teased, fumbled a little, and dropped Allura's hand. "Sorry," he winced. She just shook her head and smiled.

"I'll do better when I have two hands. But, what about you? I can't come to your house and do this for you. You should let your father stop in so he can learn too."

Allura sucked in a breath, "He's getting his own time. He doesn't need to see me like this—none of them do."

Shiro sat back and looked at her, part disbelief and part sympathy rolled over his face into wide eyes and a straight set mouth, "They'll have to see you eventually. They don't keep you here forever."

The tears started to fall before Allura even realized she'd wanted to cry. Wanted to cry since the moment she woke up in that hospital bed. "I've lost _everything_ , Shiro—if they see me—" she stopped to heave, "if they see me—I'm not the same. I'll lose them too—I can't—I can't let that happen—!"

"Hey, hey!" Shiro put one heavy, sturdy hand on her shoulder like it might stop all the quaking in her voice. "You're still you. Nobody's gonna leave as long as you're still you."

She cried. She let Shiro hug her and she cried, as it all caught up with her. She would never stop being Allura, but now she was Allura without dancing. After that, she wasn't even sure what was left. So, she cried.

Shiro didn't bring up the outburst when he visited her the following day, which she was glad for. There was no gift this time, which she didn't mind. Instead, he had a leather bound binder propped open in his lap, over his crossed legs, and he was positioned just so that Allura could see over his shoulder. It had taken them several minutes to get everything right. Shiro had had to close the curtains to get rid of the glare on the glossy pages, and even had to move Allura a little closer to the edge of the bed. But, they'd figured it out well enough, after Shiro had shrugged off his jacket so the hood wasn't in the way.

"That's the fire house," Allura observed, and there was innocence in her awe.

"Me and the guys, there," he pointed to himself, "with two arms."

"Your hair is all black, too," she giggled, to which Shiro explained that being a firefighter was stressful, but nothing had been so stressful enough to give him early grays than the injury. Allura was lucky, her hair was so light, she'd never notice.

"I never let a single one of them visit me," he stated though, and it was just a solemn bit of fact. Something he had come to regret, over his time with Allura. "After I was discharged, they stopped coming around to check up on me, too."

She glanced at him, then back to the book. Shiro looked happy in the images he pointed to, and the stories he told were happy. The birthday party they threw for the oldest member which had been appropriately Senior Center themed. Shiro continued well through lunch, until, when he turned the page, there were no more photographs to show her.

"You guys finally figure out what cell phones were for?" she teased. Shiro didn't respond immediately. Just sort of closed the book and laid his hand on the cover.

"We got a call. Grease fire, apparently. Mom got out, thought she had both of her kids. Somewhere in the panic, she lost one. The house was almost entirely in flames when we got there, and they all said—" he gulped, "—'Armstrong, don't go in there. You won't make it out.'"

Allura's eyes were wide now, "You went in."

"They were right. I did not make it out," he looked up at her. "I got the kid out. Little guy, probably four or five. That's when the second floor just," he made a jester with his hand, sound effects to mimic an explosion. "They had to put the fire out before anyone could find me. Ended up in the hospital an hour later and had a tearful separation."

"The burns were that bad?"

"Not just the burns. The damage. Shattered bones, torn muscles. It was disgusting, but I was adamant if they just gave it time it'd heal. I'm a strong man—it had to work. Nurse looked me in the eye and told me I'd die of gangrene before testosterone ever saved me, and that shut me up pretty fast."

Allura sputtered off into laughter, and it was so involuntary that Shiro couldn't help but smile at her. She was beautiful when she laughed.

Those were the good days, though. Allura had bad days where she was in tears when Shiro arrived, and nothing he said could stop them. She had been so humiliated by being fed, they skipped it and went straight to a feeding tube. That lasted a week before Allura accepted she'd never be able to eat by herself again, and the nurse was patient when lunch the next day was lukewarm soup. Shiro went with her everyday to her therapy, when she let him. Some days were bad enough that she wanted him to leave, so he stayed in the room until she returned. They didn't talk much on those days, but he always tried to find at least one story to tell her. Most of them were about how much of a loser he had been, when he got out of the hospital. Allura would be going home to a father who loved her and friends who would give up everything for her.

She didn't tell Shiro they were all going off to University, and her father worked a lot.

Instead, she poured herself into work. It was all she'd ever been good at, scheduling and doing, then scheduling again. It was a checklist, and item number one was "Get Out of Here". She had already drawn one line of the x when the nurse had a brand new, sparkling wheelchair at that particular session. It wasn't just a hospital wheelchair, it would be hers. Her legs, her mobility, her freedom, but for the first time, she didn't think much about that. Only about how her father knew her well; wherever on the wheelchair there was color, it was a pale purple, the same color as almost half her wardrobe. Her favorite color.

"Man, look at that thing," Shiro commented. "What's all that extra stuff?"

The nurse smiled, "We want to make sure Allura has the most freedom possible, so this wheelchair can be powered by what's known as the sip and puff."

"The what now?" Allura almost grimaced. Confused, because if they were going to promise her freedom, they were going to have to deliver with something better than a weird name.

The nurse got to work instead of explaining, because showing and doing were going to be better teachers than just word of mouth. Allura had to be moved into the wheelchair, picked up and shifted and manhandled, and the look on her face was putrid. Every time something like this happened, it only served as a reminder that she would be helpless for the rest of her life. This time, she managed to keep her tears in check, and sat with a straight face in this new wheelchair. It fit her.

Then, she was fitted with what appeared to be a one-sided headset, one which connected to the wheelchair with a long tube. At the end of the headset, where the speaker might have been if it were a true phone headset, given its appearance, the tube re-appeared. Though, it was made out of plastic and cut off at a sharp angle towards Allura's mouth.

"It'll take some practice," the nurse started, "but, once you get the hang of it, you should essentially be able to move around on your own."

It was a start, vaguely like baby steps, and one that Allura was barely finding any joy in. She would be able to travel on flat surfaces. She wouldn't be able to dance, brush her teeth, braid her hair. She let herself drown in that for a minute, before the nurse started to talk again. She explained to Allura what she would have to do, the intricacies of the device. That she shouldn't be discouraged if it's harder to catch onto than other things. That she shouldn't give up hope, even with this device, she should never stop trying for more. And, then, Allura was ready to try. Just like all the times before, Shiro picked a seat off to the side and he watched. He never brought anything to do, never even touched his phone. He just watched, glanced at the clock, and watched again.

An hour passed, maybe, before Shiro had to leave. He had his own appointment to make it to, and apologized profusely to Allura. After one heavy handed promise that he'd be back the following day, he was gone, and Allura was back to her sipping and puffing. Which, she worked at for another hour, until the nurse told her it was time to rest for the day. She was beyond looking pale, beyond tired. Still, stubborn and full of fight, and argued with the nurse. Another unfortunate thing about her predicament—she could talk all she wanted, but there was nothing to be done when the nurse began to wheel her back to her room.

Shiro never broke a promise. He came back the next day, the day after that, for the next week. The following week, until Shiro was walking in on the final day of Allura's hospitalization. She had been deemed well enough to go home, and given a strict schedule of visits back to keep up with her progress and recovery. A word she hated and used lightly, but seeing Shiro made her smile. The nurse had helped dressed her back in her regular clothing, did up her hair in a loose ponytail, and had packed up the gifts Shiro had brought her. The card from Lance was sitting in her lap, when Shiro entered.

"Today's the day," he greeted. "Want me to roll you out?"

"You couldn't push me anyway if you tried, you'd run me right into a wall," she rolled her eyes, and Shiro laughed. It was comfortable, at least a little bit. To joke about it now, and smile because Shiro was so willing to let himself to be apart of those jokes if it meant Allura would laugh for him. Besides, it was time for her to finally go home. There would be time down the road to be upset about the situation.

"True enough," he smiled.

The nurse came to get her a few minutes later, and it turned into a quiet affair. Alfor was waiting for her, alone, wearing a sad smile and some casual getup. He wasn't particularly known for casual, dressing below his means, so it made Allura laugh when she saw him. Just a quiet, choked out laugh, because she hadn't seen him since the first night at the hospital. She remembered yelling at him. She remembered telling him to leave.

"Remember," Shiro told her, and stood in front of her then, "don't shut people out. You taught me that. So," he finally pulled his hand out from behind his back and presented her with one, single flower. Purple. A verbena. A flower Allura didn't know, and looked more closely to the small tag attached to it at the stem.

"I was hoping, if you're up to it, you might like to go out some day."

"Go out?" Allura looked at him with disbelief.

"Like a date," he gave her a wink and handed her the flower. She stared at it, twirled it around in her fingers, and looked up just in time to see Shiro make his way out the door. She couldn't even muster the urge to call after him, remind him that she didn't know where he lived. Didn't know his phone number. Instead, Alfor suddenly took up her line of sight.

They didn't need to talk. Allura couldn't hold back the tears, and Alfor did his best not to knock anything out of place when he hugged her. She really had been expecting to see everyone here, some kind of miniature party to welcome her home. But it was just Alfor. They left after he finished some paperwork, and they left alone. Allura had gotten the hang of her wheelchair, and it was better this way. It was the illusion of solidarity. She followed Alfor through the parking lot blindly, and then arrived at an unfamiliar vehicle.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I did buy the wheelchair, Allura. It would've been irresponsible to not also purchase a vehicle which could transport it," when he smiled, this time, it was real.

There was no welcome party when they arrived home. There was a newly built ramp leading to the front porch, and then the doorway from there. One that had not been there when she left, and it hurt just a little. To know she had been so careless, and Alfor had already done so much to accommodate her.

"Coran and I spent a considerable amount of time clearing out the main floor bedroom."

"The one we used as a catch all?" she couldn't help her crooked smile.

Alfor nodded, "The very same. We were able to donate a few things, others we simply threw away. The room is empty now. I did not want to assume your wish to change rooms or not," he opened the front door and stepped aside for her to go through. "Your room is still intact, and I've had a stair lift installed. There's no room for an elevator," and he chuckled.

"But," he continued, following Allura through the living room, "if you'd like to move downstairs, I wouldn't object."

They ended at the stairs, where Allura saw first hand that the lift was only so she'd be able to access the whole house. She'd need Alfor's help to do it, which meant if he were at work, she'd be confined to which ever floor he left her on. Before he could even consider that they take a trip upstairs, she interrupted him.

"I want to move down here."

He looked at her, stilled for a moment, and then nodded, "I can have your bed moved down by this evening, so you'll have some place to sleep. For now, what would you like?"

She didn't like this, she knew she didn't like this from the moment she got home. This was going to be her life now, and while she believed whole heartedly that her father would do anything for her, it didn't take away from that feeling inside of her that demanded to be let out, to be independent and free. Instead, she bit it back:

"I'll just watch TV for now, if you could just—"

"It has voice command, Allura," Alfor smiled.

She did as she promised and watched television for most of the day. Stewing, thinking things over. Trying to adjust, to feel right in her own house. But she wasn't on the couch, wasn't curled up under a blanket happily falling asleep to commercials. Instead. She wrapped herself so carefully up in her thoughts that she forgot the time passing, and soon, Alfor was clicking off the television. He'd only been by to help her eat, when lunch came, when dinner came. The rest of the time he'd spent working.

"It's time for bed, Allura. I've gotten the essentials moved in for you, shall we go?"

She gave him a tired look, and only nodded. There wasn't enough energy left to be surprised when she came to find Alfor had moved almost half of her room down in the time she'd been wasting away in front of the television, everything in the near exact place as it had been in her real room. None if it really seemed to matter when she saw her bed—she hadn't slept in a real bed for so long. Alfor interrupted her thoughts, just before she could really sink away into imagining sleeping in her own bed again.

"What would you like to wear for bed?" and that singular comment slapped her across the face.

"W-what?" she stammered, straining her neck to look as he moved away to her dresser.

"It can't be comfortable to sleep in jeans, Allura. I was told I would have take over many of your daily activities—"

"I'm fine. I'll sleep like this," she couldn't even look at him. She didn't want to see the way his face dropped when he turned around, already holding her pajamas. It didn't stop her from listening to the rustling of clothes, the way the drawer thumped shut seconds later. What was worse was the way Alfor didn't even attempt to argue. Instead, he plucked off the headset and hung it on the back of the wheelchair, then effortlessly picked Allura up and settled her into bed.

"Goodnight, Allura," he said. He placed an open card in her lap, then left with one final comment, "the lights will also activate with your command."

She heard him, maybe, but was too caught up looking at the paper he'd given her. Card wasn't quite right, but neither was paper—it was thick, it felt heavy in her lap, but there was no tell tale crease to make it a card. There, in bright purple pen, was Lance's handwriting. She'd know it anywhere. He always wrote big, and it was a little messy, but always legible. Always so very Lance, and she was crying again before she'd even read it. Just a few sentences

_Glad you're home and hope you're doing alright. I wanna come see you before word gets out you're home, since I'm sure everyone wants to see you. If it still stands as a no, cool. But lemme know?_

He listed his number after, like she didn't know it already. That made her smile, just a little bit. Brought just enough life back to her that she dared look over at her nightstand, where the flower Shiro had given her was sitting. She hadn't gotten a chance to look at the tag; when Shiro had put it down, the tag had been face down. She hadn't wanted to ask her father to turn it for her, but now. He seemed to understand that she wanted to read it, because when he'd placed it in her room, the tag was in plain view for her to read.

It was just a phone number. Signed Armstrong. Allura fell asleep happy that night.

-

Her phone buzzed. Of all things, it was her phone vibrating from the coffee table that got to her. Instinct, because she'd done it a thousand times, just told her to lean forward and grab it. She could see Lance's obnoxious profile picture when the screen lit up, and it would be rude not to answer his call. But it hit her when she felt like she was moving and hadn't. She remembered it all at once, where it seemed her body had forgotten—she was paralyzed, in a wheel chair, and Lance's call went straight to voice mail. He called again straight after, and Allura still couldn't get to it. By the third call, she was crying, and Lance didn't call back.

When Alfor came down around lunch time, Allura was still sniffling in her chair, and the TV had been muted. He set aside the papers in his hands and immediately went over to her, and that alone—maybe to anyone else, it woul've been a concerned parent coming to his daughter's rescue, but to her. It was just another reminder that she was stuck in that chair. That Alfor had to come to her.

"Allura, Allura what's wrong?"

She just shook her head. Shook her head profusely, the tears starting to fall again, "I could've answered it, I could've answered it, all I had to do was say something!"

The phone, Alfor realized, and he picked it up. Three missed calls from one Lance McClain. Alfor sighed, but when he moved to say something, Allura just shook her head again. That was all there was to it, after that, and he left the phone in Allura's lap. Maybe it had been intentional, maybe it hadn't been, but he left with an idle side comment that she call him when she was ready for lunch. He took a sandwich back to his office, and Allura sniffed.

She waited until she heard the sound of a door closing, and then she took the plunge. She'd spent so many nights staring at that flower before she went to sleep, she knew the number by heart. All she had to do was say it into her phone, and then it was dialing. Each ring was like another pang of anxiety, but suddenly.

"Hello?" Shiro's voice. Confused, because he didn't have her number, and none of this was well thought out.

"H-hey, um. Hi," it was like meeting him for the first time all over again.

"Oh, Allura? That you?" he was laughing. "You sound a little funny, everything alright?"

She didn't respond, just mulled over her thoughts for a moment. Was everything alright? Didn't she just freak out out over absolutely nothing?

"Allura?"

"How did you do it?" she almost recanted, but she heard Shiro take a deep breath.

"Do what?" just to confirm, like he didn't already know.

"Move on. Lance called, and I just thought I could grab my phone, and when I couldn't—" she cut herself off. Shiro didn't need to know, and she didn't want to remember.

"Losing my right arm was a pretty big deal. I'm right handed, you should see my signature," he laughed, but stopped when Allura didn't reciprocate. "Point is, sometimes you don't move on, and you don't get over it. You just live with it."

"That's your big piece of advice, just live with it?"

"That's not what I said. You learn to live with it because you have to. You need a support system. Have you gotten with your friends?"

"Lance came over the other day. He played video games, and I told him he sucked at it."

Shiro laughed, and over a receiver, it sounded strange and removed.

"What were their names? What about, uhh. Keith, was it? Pidge and…"

"Hunk."

"Yeah. Have you seen them yet?" her silence told him everything. "Maybe that's too much for right now. How about me?"

"No I haven't seen you—wait, or do you mean…?"

"I did ask you on a date, if you remember." She did remember She thought about it, all the time.

"We could go to the park. If you get me a straw, there's that cafe…" He agreed immediately, and when they hung up, Allura did call her father.

Shiro was nothing if not a gentleman, waiting for Allura at the cafe when Alfor dropped her off. He helped, in whatever ways he could, to get her out of the van, and promised that they'd give Alfor a car when it was time to go home. Shiro couldn't drive, not in his condition—so he'd walked. He could stay with her until Alfor showed up, and while the look on his face was off, he didn't question further and wished Allura a good time. They stopped at the cafe first, where Shiro ordered himself lunch and Allura, one of their shakes. It wasn't ideal, but she didn't want to be fed in public. Their shakes weren't bad, either, even if they were for people on a strange health kick.

"How are you holding up?" he asked her, two fries in his mouth.

"Father moved me into the downstairs room. Things are…strange."

"I can imagine. Mom can't help you out?"

Allura stared down at her drink and just shook her head. Shiro didn't need to ask, just apologized awkwardly and sucked in another handful of fries.

"I'm sure you've heard the 'I changed your diapers' speech already, but he's right. I don't really have much say here, though."

"Yeah, you can still bathe without help. He suggested we hire some kind of caretaker, but I'm not…comfortable with that either."

"Work out what you're comfortable with, nobody can tell you otherwise. You have to stop worrying about what everyone else thinks of you and this thing, because you're wasting time. If it inconveniences them, that's their problem," and he nodded off over his shoulder. "See that guy? He's staring at us. What a couple we make, huh?"

That had Allura smiling, "Couple? Is that what we are?"

Shiro shrugged, "If you agree. If you're up for it. When you're ready," another fry. Allura pretended not to notice the switch from if to when, and took a drink of her shake.

It was eleven when Allura made the call. She was already done up in her pajamas, freshly showered, and beaming with some new sense of life. If she was ready. When she was ready. The world would wait around for her if she made it, and she would certainly make it. By eleven thirty, Pidge was being let into her room by a very exasperated Alfor, who said he wouldn't condone late night get-togethers in the future. His comment didn't matter, because Pidge was in her room looking more excited by the second, and the minute Alfor was gone, she leaped onto the bed.

"Allura! I haven't seen you in ages! God, everyone told me what happened? Are you okay—no, of course you're not. But you're alive and you're perfect—what did you want me for again?" she sat back on her haunches, looking both parts confused and overjoyed. Allura was laughing. It helped, because it made things feel normal. Pidge gave an awkward smile.

"I want to..start something. I need something to do, now that I can't, well…do anything. I'm going to ask Father for the right stuff tomorrow, but I need your help tonight to get thing started. My laptop's on my desk, it's a little dusty though."

Pidge rolled her eyes and hopped off the bed to grab it, "You and your dust. Want to explain this to me? Mom through a fit when I wanted to come see you. Matt drove me though, because he thinks you're a good person or something."

"I'm sorry, Pidge. I should've…let you guys visit," Allura kept her eyes downcast, but Pidge smacked her upside the head. Softly.

"You should've. Don't do it again. What matters is that I'm here now, and I'm gonna start whatever it is you're ready for—don't know why you didn't call Lance though," she rolled her eyes and opened the laptop.

"He's no tech guru."

"Oh, so it's tech you're looking at. Tell me what's up, come on. Password?"

"Voltron62, no spaces no capitals."

"Isn't that the name of that band you guys were gonna start? What a nerd."

"That band was named after the game Lance and I played as kids, don't hate."

Pidge only rolled her eyes harder and typed in the password. Allura got to explaining her idea, after that, and Pidge worked furiously after they had find a USB mouse to work with. It went from an idea, to a rough sketch on some paper, to a preliminary and unpublished website. If there was something about having money, it was the ability to throw something up like this fast. Pidge made sure to comment on it, because she would never miss a chance to comment on the money Allura had in her pocket—her father's pocket, but if he had ever cared what she spent it on, surely they would've heard by now. Instead, Allura had a domain and server space all to herself by one in the morning, and Pidge was putting on the finishing touches to a website layout by two. They were one pot of coffee down, and another one was brewing.

"What is this about anyway?" Pidge had to ask.

"It's just a way to vent, I suppose. I still talk to Shiro, but he's on his way to getting his arm _back_ , so it's a little different. Maybe this way, I can find other people like me."

"You could just, like, join a group that already exists?"

Allura nodded, "I could, but this is more personal than that. This is for me first, and if someone else comes along, and we can help each other. Even better."

Pidge groaned, "Ugh, Matt was right—you are a good person."

That time, Allura even believed it a little.

By the end of the week, the website was up and running. Expediting shipping was the absolute greatest invention of modern time; Allura had an all new computer that was entirely voice activated. She didn't ask how much it cost, and Alfor hadn't cared. Everyone came by to help set things up; where Hunk had given her a one armed hug, Keith was mad that she hadn't wanted to see them earlier. There was no way to apologize for that, so they ordered pizza instead and didn't talk about it.

Lance was the one who stayed behind long enough to help Allura set up her camera equipment. They went over the instruction manual together with meticulous boredom. After that, it was time for the next phase. Humiliation overwhelmed her when came time to ask the dreaded question, which wasn't for lack of confidence that Lance could pick her up. He'd done it before, and he'd probably do it again. It was about having to ask, because she couldn't sit in her own bed without help. But, it went over with little incident, and Lance didn't even blink when she sputtered out the question. He certainly didn't falter when he had her in his arms, then made no comment when he settled her in bed. Just, a smile, a wave, and he left. Everything that came next was something she had to do alone, because it was for her. Now, with a computer set that was completely controlled by voice, she was ready. The world had waited long enough for Allura to come back to it, and starting to record just felt like a baby step—roll—in the right direction.

"Hello. My name is Allura, and recently, a log took everything from me. Yes, I mean a log. The tree of kind of log…"

She posted the first video everywhere. First, on the site, and then she reached out to old accounts she hadn't touched since the accident. Her Twitter, her Instagram, and she stared at Facebook for a long time before deciding it didn't matter what her relatives thought, what people outside of her friend group thought. It felt like confidence, and she liked it. Then, it was a day's hard work done and gone, so she went to sleep.

For the first time, there was a bubble in her chest when she woke up, and she woke up early. That feeling pounded harder than her heart and kept her up, made her eager when she hadn't been. Not for life, not to slurp down a protein shake. She'd never liked them, but neither her nor Alfor had ever been expressly morning people. It made things easier, and it tasted good today. More like chocolate than defeat, and that thought alone gave her the continue. The first video was already nothing, and she didn't bother checking notifications. Part of her didn't want to know what they would mean—sympathy, pity, all things she'd heard before and didn't want to hear again. Instead, she started recording.

"I used to volunteer at a Hospital, the very same Hospital that I spent my recovery days in. I met so many people there, but after awhile, you have to separate yourself on certain levels. It's the only thing that keeps you coming back—and you never think that one day you're going to be one of them."

Alfor said a few words in video number three, not to complain or comment about what Allura's accident had caused him, but to say that watching her move forward like this had been as close to heroic he'd ever see.

The forth video, Allura recorded out and about. Shiro had helped her attach the camera, and waved before Allura scolded him away. It was more commemoration than a real video, just to show that Allura had something beyond the confines of her wheelchair, and it was a one-armed exe firefighter. He had more fun than he needed to explaining that to the camera, and made sure to mention he was getting a prosthetic. The prosthetic was the cool part, at least, and was something like a light at the end of the tunnel. By the end of the video, Shiro surprised her with a kiss, just before it stopped recording. Her first kiss, and her face went red.

The fifth video had Lance as a self pro-claimed co-star; he'd invited himself over. It was something Allura was glad for. It meant they were okay, comfortable, friends. The best of friends. Friends enough that Lance didn't even think twice when he gave her a playful punch in front of the camera, mocked her, and she mocked back. The word _normal_ came to mind, and that's what Allura named the video when she posted it.

That was the first time she stopped to look at the notifications on her sites. Combined, there were over a hundred, coming from people and different people—friends, family, people she'd never seen. Just commenting, and she read them all. Until she stopped at one, left on the website under Anonymous.

_I recently suffered almost the same injury. I can still use my hands, so maybe it's not so bad. They told me I was lucky, and I hate that they did. I hope nobody told you that you were lucky._

Allura blinked as she looked at it, read it over, and made her decision. Lucky would've meant she snapped her neck on that log and came out of the hospital with no injuries and a dancing career. Lucky would've meant that, even with severed vertebrae, they still found a way for her to walk and dance and live. Lucky was not that she was dead. This was someone who understood that, who had been told they were lucky to the point they saw Allura's videos and thought it appropriate to make the comment that their own injury wasn't that bad. Because they were lucky. Lucky they didn't end up like Allura.

The next video, she titled _We Aren't Lucky_ , and addressed that Anonymous comment directly.

She didn't leave the house much, and with the computer and the videos—stayed away from the TV. It had been three days, and a knock on the door interrupted the video—which, never mattered. The videos weren't edited. She kept them short and real, because it meant more to watch her stumble over her emotions than to appear like she'd scripted some event. The knock was just another real moment, and Alfor walked in with an elated look on his face.

"Shiro is here to see you," he told her, and left. Shiro was there, which was new—different—and looking ridiculously happy with a piece of paper in his hand. Just one, single piece of paper like it meant the world, and he held it over to Allura for her to see.

"They wrote about you, look. It's an article. They're calling you a sensation—they're calling you an activist! Look, look," he came closer, kneeling down next to the wheel chair to really show her. "That video you posted the other day about not being lucky—"

He continued on, raving, but Allura ignored him. She was reading the article, concentrating through the shakiness of Shiro's hand to really look at the words, and he was right. Allura, age 18 and a recent graduate of Garrison High, an activist and overnight Internet sensation. Shocked. That's all she was, shocked. And I showed on her face when Shiro stopped abruptly.

"Don't tell me you didn't know! Don't you look at anything?"

"Sometimes, not recently. It's hard, so I—"

"Hard?! Allura, you can't not do something because it's hard!" he surged up and grabbed the camera to use for his own needs, now. Allura didn't protest, just moved closer to the computer to watch Shiro click around. What had started as just over a hundred notifications total was now over a thousand. Shiro showed her the website traffic, the comments, other people reaching out to her—and she would've been floored if she wasn't stationary. Could feel herself gasping and collapsing down to her knees, where she instead simply sat still with wide and sparkling eyes.

" _Talk_ to these people, Allura. They want your help—your advice. This fancy machine here is so you _can_ talk to them. You have to."

"I do," she agreed immediately. She shut the camera off with a final, off handed comment. Far too distracted, it was obvious that she wasn't paying attention anymore. She was staring at the comment feed, the Twitter comments—everything.

"I need a hashtag," she laughed, and Shiro shot her a serious glance before pulling out his phone.

"I'm gonna start one."

"Shiro—"

"Too late, starting one. I'll be your social media campaign manager, except I've got an appointment to get to," he beamed and planted a kiss on her cheek. She saw it though, as it popped up as a new notification on Twitter. She'd been tagged in something, and knowing Shiro, it would be absolutely ridiculous. Except, it wasn't.

_That's my girlfriend @legendary_allura, #newnormal_

Girlfriend was a funny thing, but she kept at it. Kept at all of it, and spent the next week responding to everyone she could manage. There was no time for food, no time for breaks, and she barely had the wherewithal to remember water. None of it mattered, because every new comment was more powerful than the last—people using her as a beacon of hope. The people who owned the campsite where she'd had her accident reached out to her, they felt responsible. There was new video footage of the actual removal of the debris from the lake—the submerged log that she'd hit. It made her cry, but she smiled the whole way through. At the end of it all, she found herself looking closer to home for things she thought she needed to go far for.

Lance and Keith left town to move into their dorms. What Keith cited as divine intervention, Lance lamented about—they were not roommates, and if Lance wanted to goad him into another argument, he'd have to travel across campus to do it. They were gone by the end of August. Hunk made himself scarce with his job, saving up money for an expensive tech college upstate, and Pidge dedicated herself fully to being the biggest and loudest senior of the new graduating class of Garrison High. That left Allura alone, for the most part, with a blank and fresh college application.

A blank, fresh college application that turned into an acceptance later come winter. An acceptance letter that turned into a map of the campus, a local university not twenty-five minutes from the house. And a map that turned into an orientation, orientation that turned into a first day of class, of college. A semester late, and it had felt like a life time. The college had, of course, heard of her, and nobody had been more accommodating. What classes she couldn't take in person, she took via webcam, or online, and though she couldn't carry her books like normal students. She felt normal, for once. She did all the things that normal students did, including.

"Surprise," Shiro whirled around a tree, and presented her with a flower. Another purple verbena, only the hand behind it looked strangely not his, and she followed it up and to his shoulder.

"Oh, Shiro," she beamed. His prosthetic arm, fully operational and attached and holding a flower. After a moment of awkward stillness, Shiro laughed at himself and tucked the flower into Allura's hair. His thinking he could just hand her stuff hadn't gone away, and she couldn't even bring herself to be mad at it anymore.

"I've got my arm back. You're in college. I've got a job—"

"A job?"

"After everything, I decided I had to follow your example and burst my way back into life. I went back to the station," he looked at Allura long enough to see her wide eyes, the anticipation that would have her sitting on the edge of her seat. "They signed me on again. A trainer."

Her smile was wide now too, just grinning forward and Shiro and waiting. He laughed.

"Yeah—they still call me Armstrong."

It felt like a victory. It felt like it mattered, and Shiro kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check Out My Tumblr If You Want To See More](https://tantumuna.tumblr.com)   
> 

**Author's Note:**

> [Check Out My Tumblr If You Want To See More](https://tantumuna.tumblr.com)   
> 


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